Last night I thought a lot about high school. I guess it must have been some time since I contemplated the years I spent at dear old Mercy High. Yes, I went to an all-girls Catholic school, but it was not the typical private institution. It was at Mercy that I first met large numbers of people different than I am, for we enjoyed a great diversity in terms of race, religion, socioeconomic status and, for lack of a better term, personality.
I sometimes joke to people that even though we had to wear uniforms, we must have dressed with more variety than the student population at Dartmouth. We should have written a book: 1001 ways to wear an oxford, kilt and bizarre accessories.
Academics left a little to be desired, but no one cared. As for competition, nobody every mentioned class rank. We had more important things to worry about, such as fighting the system of nuns, administrators and the like. For example, dyeing one's hair was a big thing; one that the nuns weren't quite so fond of. They passed a rule that you couldn't dye your hair non-natural colors. So cherry-red became the color of choice. They couldn't do anything to us, and we celebrated our victory.
Since it was a religious school, we had to take religion classes, but since Catholics were actually in the minority and true practicing Catholics were a rarity, we were taught about other religions. Our prayer teacher taught us Buddhist meditations and truly tried to understand us.
But I think she freaked out one day when we went around the circle saying our intentions, and one girl said, "I'd like to pray for my boyfriend and my significant other; yes, they are two different people," and another said, "I consider myself to be a witch." I bet she must have meditated a lot after that class. By the end of the term she said, "I must say that you girls sure are honest about everything." That is one of the things we all liked best. We weren't afraid to share our lives.
The biggest part of our education was learning about people. We learned to appreciate and embrace differences, to unite against intolerance in whatever form it manifested itself and to always stand up for the things we believed in. We formed unbelievable bonds of friendships, which withstand time and distance and remain strong.
We've all changed since then, but some things remain the same. It is always very interesting to see my friends when I go home over break. Noelle, who only wore black and had a big spiky dog collar, goes to school in Chicago and works at an art museum. Since graduation, she has bought a few dresses and even a pair of heels to wear to work, but she still wears combat boots on the weekends.
Meg, who was a swimmer and never brushed her hair or wore anything but her uniform or jeans, has since joined a sorority and started wearing makeup. She still refuses to wear khaki pants. Melissa, who swore up and down that she would never date one guy for longer than a month, now wears a diamond promise ring to her boyfriend of a year. We still aren't quite sure about that one.
And I, having left most of my Salvation Army clothes at home in favor of wool sweaters, have taken to painting my fingernails different colors on occasion and wearing funky hats, just to show that I have not conformed to the system. All of us still enjoy going to the arcade and then debating the meaning of life in smoke-filled cafes.
What sparked my little trip down memory lane? Last night, some friends (also Catholic school girls) came by to kidnap me from my work and take me to SAE. We danced and laughed and didn't care about what anyone else thought of us. We had a great time, and collectively ripped on one of the visibly drunk brothers who insisted on taking his shirt off for no apparent reason.
We were pretty obnoxious. I wonder if he even remembers us this morning. I hope so.
