The Past Comes Back

Events 10 years ago flood my memory. I didn't even trigger them, my students in class did.

I guess I asked for it. I'm a high school teacher, for God's sakes. It's beginning to be that time of year in schools where the girls are looking for Prom dresses. Geez...

4th Period -- I teach a Web Page Design class. After the lesson was done and the students completed the assignment, the majority of the females in the room turned their attention to the Internet to scope out the latest fashions in dresses for the occasion that is Prom.

"What do you think of this one? How 'bout this one? Does this look too slutty?"

I'm bombarded by questions regarding my taste in these dresses. How should I know? For dresses starting at the minimum price of $210 to nearly $500 -- they better damn well be nice. Luckily for us guys, all we had to do was rent our tuxes.

Then the question of all questions from the ladies: "Did you go to Prom?"

Don't remind me. The memory still cuts like a knive, even after all of these years.

Junior year, no. Didn't bother, although I should have asked someone out. Instead, I videotaped the occasion and had some fun at a lake in west central Minnesota later that night.

Senior year, yes. It's a situation that soap operas are made from. I couldn't even dream up that story from 10 years ago even if I had tried. But it happened and I did make the most of it.

My cop-out is that I told these girls that I did have fun. Why not -- since I considered to go to Prom by myself, technically.

So, the girls again ask another question: "So, you were a loser?"

Nice ... but I didn't consider myself a "loser" at that point in time. It was just the situation I was stuck in. I proceeded to tell my sad, sad story: starting the build-up weeks before the Prom had actually started, ending 'til 6 in the morning after the Prom had ended.

I didn't mind the laughs that I received from the girls ... then I noticed the audience had improved to include the boys in the class. Looking back, it's a ridulous situation and poking fun at the fact that I was in that position -- I didn't care!

After the telling the tale, several of the boys expressed that they didn't want to go to Prom. I immediately disagreed with them, telling them to go and live up the experience. Although my personal experience was considered to be a disaster -- they got to go through the full experience of high school, whether it is good or bad. Otherwise, they won't have the excellent stories to tell later on in life.