During a brief conversation with our receptionist, N., we discussed going back to the eleventh grade knowing what we know now…here’s what I came up with:

  • I wouldn’t take Physics or Pre-Calculus, because I know that I’m not gonna need them. The only thing I remember from Physics is rug where r = radius, u (mu) = coefficient of friction, and g = gravity (9.82 m/s2) and you use this formula to figure out the safest speed at which to take that curve coming off the expressway.  Let me say this…the suggested speed might be the safest, but it’s more fun to go faster.
  • I’d take a third year of Spanish and consider a fourth year.  I was good at Spanish and I should’ve stuck with it.  Maybe at this point, I’d be a diplomat in Guatemala or something where it’s always warm.
  • I’d tell my English teacher what I really thought of her, because she was a horrible person who got by on her disability and the higher-up friends in the system.  She wasn’t a very good teacher at all.
  • I would pay a lot more attention in History class, especially toward the end where we discussed World War I, and then had some side discussions about the Gulf War (which had just broken out) and its effects.  Not the least of which, I learned the Presidents of the United States from Mr. Pack (R.I.P.) and that has served me more than any Calculus ever did.

Those are probably not the only things I’d fix, but that would be a good start.  This was half my life ago, so it’s no wonder I can’t remember everything.

See you in the funny papers!

5 thoughts on “Yesteryear

  1. 11th Grade English – same room as you had it one year later – we had a test on Emerson and Thoreau (I’ve been reading some Waldo again lately; I really enjoyed the “Where’s” series and wanted to know more about this man I took such trouble to find).

    Anyway, the first section of the test was fill-in-the-blanks. A line from Emerson’s “The American Scholar” read (when the blanks were filled) “The scholar is the delegated intellect. In the right state he is Man Thinking. In the degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a mere thinker, or still worse, the parrot of other men’s thinking.”

    I have a clear memory of looking up at the teacher’s desk for a long moment (I was 2nd or 3rd from the front) and officially coasting through the next year and a half of high school secure in the knowledge that I’d figure it out the important parts on my own eventually. Sad, really.

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