School Daze

My high school graduating class of 1986 celebrated its 40th Reunion this past weekend. And I didn’t attend. Again. I’ve missed all the reunions so far — 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, and now 40 years — 0 for 8 in reunion attendance. I even purchased tickets this time, with the best of intentions to go. But I guess you could say that life happened, and it got in the way. I had a busy Saturday that included several hours of PA work, along with some matters pertaining to my family, and just, you know, things. In the end, I decided to just forget the cost of the reunion tickets and devote my time to what mattered in the moment instead of trying to rush everything going on so that I could make it to this event. And you know what? That’s OK. Sure, it would’ve been nice to see old friends, some of whom I’d known since elementary school. Sure, it could’ve been fun recounting old stories, catching up on everyone’s lives, and acknowledging the passing of classmates who can never join us again. There’s a part of me that might’ve enjoyed allowing my old peers to see that I still have my hair and haven’t experienced drastic physical change since I was in high school. I’m not as thin as I was then, (who is?) but I still look more or less like that guy. The thing is, I am decidedly not that guy anymore, at least inside, and the reality of my 40th high school reunion, whether I attended or not, underscores just how much I have changed, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually, over four decades. I consider that a good thing.

40 years since graduation means it’s been 52 years since I actually began attending school. My parents kept me out of Kindergarten (a story in itself for another time), so I started school as a first grader. Six years in elementary school, three years in junior high (back when Arlington ISD arranged grades that way), and another three years of high school. And over the course of those 12 years, I attended many classes, did my fair share of work, stayed out of trouble, and managed to graduate 9th in a class of 625. Not bad at all, as I was the fifth of five Ponce siblings to graduate in the Top 10 of our respective high school classes. Back in 1986, I was quite proud of that accomplishment. Today, I view it as a noteworthy fact about our family, but it doesn’t hold the same personal esteem for me as it once did. I actually don’t think I was as strong a student as I once thought I was while in the midst of my career in grades 1-12. That’s not to say I was a bad student, or not very smart. As objectively as I can assess it, I was actually fairly bright. I was able to read at a high level from a young age. Even in first grade, compared to students who had a year of kindergarten behind them, I was one of the best readers in the class. That’s a testament to both my parents and my siblings, who established a culture of learning in our house, and that culture nurtured my academic abilities, most importantly my ability to read before I ever set foot inside a school. Honestly, though, my greatest academic strengths growing up were more on the math side. I was great at math, no doubt about it. I even remember getting upset whenever a particular mathematical concept didn’t click immediately with me, because not understanding something in math simply did not compute. (Pun intended.) I always did figure it out, eventually, and most of the time I was ahead of the curve when it came to learning math. (Sorry, the puns keep on coming.) Heck, I started my college career as a math major, although I eventually shifted away from it. I think my math abilities are ultimately one reason why I excelled in my education career, both as an economics teacher and in the world of assessment and accountability.

Yet as bright or smart as I might have been, I also look back and think that I probably didn’t excel as a student quite as much as I could have. Sure, I entered school with advantages thanks to the culture of learning in my household, and I definitely continued to learn things at home. But when I entered the school building, I was, honestly, mostly better at “doing school” than I was at actually…well…learning and bettering myself intellectually. I was basically eager to please, so I was compliant, did what I was told, and most of all, did my best to impress the teacher. But I don’t see my former self as a guy who had some kind of inherent thirst for knowledge. And I certainly wasn’t an avid reader, looking for the next book to consumer. In elementary school, I always wanted to be the first with my hand up to give the correct answer. In junior high, I wanted to write the longest essay responses, even though I’d bet that some of them weren’t necessarily the best. I wanted to be first chair in my section of the band. I think I often confused outward recognition with excellence and learning, even though I was often just doing the minimum required, but trying to be fast and accurate. I suppose that kind of spirit was fine at lower grade levels, but I didn’t extend myself; I was often merely the first to reach the academic finish line. As I got through grade 8 and into grade 9 and high school, I’m not sure that same competitive approach was useful, as I look back on those years. I think now that I might’ve been better off with a more inquisitive perspective. Ask incisive questions. Seek deeper knowledge. Think more, seek to please less. Dig into stuff that wasn’t necessarily part of the curriculum. As an educator, these were actually the kinds of behaviors I tried to nurture in my students by asking open-ended questions that encouraged deeper thought.

Make no mistake: I had some excellent teachers in elementary, junior high, and high school. I’m certain I learned some great lessons and had a strong foundation for my college years, and beyond. And I know for a fact that there were experiences during those years that remain at the core of who I am and how I’ve evolved as a person. But there’s a part of me that wonders now if I squandered some of the potential knowledge I could’ve gained because I was too silly, stupid, or short-sighted to get out of my own way. And I didn’t always have instructors who challenged me to push further until my academic skills had matured significantly in college, especially after I figured out how to seek more meaning than simply checking off items on a list of requirements. I learned to write more coherently, with purpose and voice. I learned to think of mathematical problems on a deeper, more practical level. I learned to read for depth and connection that I probably never grasped in earlier years. Even in terms of my musical background, I sometimes think I had a flawed mindset in junior high and high school. I think many of my generation in band at that time — not just in my own band, but at many schools — were possibly focused too much on competitive aspects of the music world and not enough on, you know, music. Crafting the best possible individual and ensemble sounds, playing as much literature as possible, learning the history behind that literature, extending our knowledge into theory, gaining more nuanced insights into the broader world of music. Supporting each other as fellow musicians instead of trying to pretend that anyone was better or worse than the other. I learned to love music for music’s sake in college, thankfully, but I do wonder how much I could’ve gained from that world had I appreciated it on that level at a younger age.

It’s not a question of regrets, though. I do not in any way wonder how my life would’ve turned out if I’d made different choices or had different ideas as a student. My life as it has unfolded really began during my college years. I’m very satisfied with where my journey of higher education and career have taken me, and I am completely content with where life is right now. I guess it’s just that, as a I reflect on the idea of a “40 Year Reunion,” I ultimately wonder why I would want to revisit memories of a time when I think I was kind of foolish. I’ve seen a bunch of photos of the reunion on social media, and it looks like those who attended had a great time. Good for them; I hope it was filled with warm memories and happy reconnections. It also looks like many people who I knew, but no one with whom I was close during those years, and certainly no one with whom I maintain even sporadic contact today. It’s not like I was going to reminisce about partying with my old friends one more time, since I was never a partying guy to begin with. And it’s not like I want to have an impromptu therapy session, wondering aloud if my lack of connection with those individuals and the hazy perspective I recall from those years might go hand-in-hand. At the same time, I wonder if anyone else from the Class of 1986 feels like a fundamentally different person now, as well. Maybe someone else looks back and sees awkwardness. It might be a question worth pursuing in the future. Either way, I wish all who attended, and all who couldn’t attend, all the best. If I happen to run across any of them in the future, great. I’ll happily stop down for a few minutes to visit and try to catch up on several decades. That may truly be the most authentic and comfortable way for me to connect with any of my old classmates, anyway. I think I might find it easier to vaguely recognize someone, then realize who they are, in the real world, as opposed to wearing a name tag and wondering if anyone will actually remember me at all. Still, I hope some of my classmates organize a gathering again in 2031 to celebrate 45 years, or perhaps in 2036 to celebrate 50. And I hope everyone has the best time ever. Just don’t necessarily count on me going. I can’t decide if there’s enough memories from those days that I want to relive. My focus truly is on the here, the now, and the future.