Sometimes I find the most interesting books while working at
the Bottom Shelf. The other day I picked
up a copy of Hi There, High School! a
classic guide that claims it will tell you “how to make a success of your teen
years”. Wow. Success as a teen. The El Dorado of the adolescent. I sure could have used a book like that back
when I was actually in my teen years. Or
could I?
Through the humorous experiences of some stereotypical characters,
Hi There, High School! shows anyone, no matter their level of social ineptitude,
how to make the most of the high school years.
Here are a few examples.
Chapter II (which is really Chapter Two and not Chapter
Eleven like most students nowadays will erroneously suppose because no one teaches
Roman numerals anymore) starts out with this rousing anecdote:
“'We’ll fight and work for you, Central High . . .' The words flash on the big screen on the
auditorium stage. Everyone sings with
pep and enthusiasm.”
Two things come to mind as I read this paragraph. First, apparently the author can only
remember the first line of the school song.
This is not an unusual occurrence. The first line is all I remember of my own high school song: “Hail, alma mater! Hail to maroon and white!” The rest is a blur. I remember a bit more of my college song,
“Rise and shout, the Cougars are out! Da
da de dum de da da glory!” And then
there’s something about a story (to rhyme with glory) and then there’s a bit more sporty matter, and then the big finish of “the Cougars of BYU!” I think. But that’s just the fight song. I have no memory of any alma mater tune.
The second thing that comes to mind is that the author tells us everyone sings
with pep and enthusiasm. I think I
believe this because I’ve seen similar scenarios in old movies, but it
certainly does not reflect my reality. Not
that I went to all that many pep rallies. Let alone games.
Chapter II also discusses such important things as whether
the school allows you to bring your lunch from home and eat it in the
cafeteria. Our high school had no
cafeteria. But most people didn’t bother
to bring lunch from home because we had something better than a homemade lunch,
better than a cafeteria, better than anything Hi There, High School! could ever
conjure up. We had fresh, hot buttered
French bread for 10 cents a piece! No one
can beat that, not even Central High.
It is in Chapter III (Three, not One Hundred Eleven) that
the plot really gets going. Here we
learn about a school’s traffic system and the proper behavior for getting to
class. We meet several characters who show up again and again throughout the book, such as Breezy Jones and Buzz Newton, and a group of girls called Traffigoons because they are road
hogs; that is, they “stop in the middle of the corridor and start a gabfest”. My high school was a little on the crowded
side, so when even one person stopped walking in the hall, it caused a traffic jam 50 feet back. Gabby girls were seldom the cause,
though. At my school, it was usually because
someone had started a fight. Two or
three people started slugging each other and those of us at the
back of the traffic jam would sigh and hope it got cleared up by the time we
inched our way forward to the site of conflict.
Chapter IV (which has nothing to do with intravenous
procedures) is a little scary. There are
some pretty explicit threats about what will happen to you if you cut class or
have unexcused absences. It’s all pretty
much alarmist twaddle, though. In my
experience, cutting class was never as dire as they make it sound. I cut class a handful of times, and was only
caught twice and was able to talk my way out of it both times. Well, one time. The other time I just told my teacher I didn’t
care about the consequences. He was so
flustered at my response that nothing happened. Now, my
brother, on the other hand, cut nearly a whole semester before the attendance
secretary caught on that maybe he wasn’t really at home with a tummy ache after
all.
Succeeding chapters give all sorts of useful advice on
proper table etiquette (for eating lunch in the cafeteria, in case your school
has one), for getting homework done, for studying effectively, for speaking in
public (like at a club meeting), and for trying out for school sports, none of
which applied to me. Oh, I usually got
my homework done, but I just tried to keep a low profile for the most part so
that I didn’t get made fun of or yelled at or beat up. I
know one guy who walked into the boys’ locker room during a football game,
startled some jokers who were handling a transaction involving illegal
substances, and got pounded for his trouble.
Chapter XII advises teens to be on their best behavior at
large in the community – at the soda shoppe, for instance, or at the movies –
because they are representatives of their school, and they wouldn’t want to
give Central High a bad name. Right
about here is where I started feeling that perhaps Hi There, High School! was
just a tad out of touch with modern youth.
Yes, it would be lovely if high school aged individuals behaved with
proper decorum on campus and off, used the correct eating utensils in the correct way, tipped the
soda jerk, didn’t talk during movies, and had family councils with Mom and Pop. But I’m afraid the attitudes of rudeness,
selfishness, and exhibitionism that have such a stranglehold on people today
had already sent their invasive tendrils into society by the time I was a
teenager.
It is not until Chapter XVI that the characters in the book
get around to dealing with the real issues of teen success; that is,
Popularity. And here I find nothing
new. In the book, Jane, Ted, Phoebe, and
all the other successful characters are successful because they are friendly,
well-mannered, good conversationalists, and considerate of others. Also they dance well. Somehow, the kids at my school never learned
that popularity depended on characteristics like those. Sure, it helped to be friendly, but it helped
even more to be athletic, to be good-looking, and to have that certain
something (that je ne sais quois, my chums who took French would have said)
that drew others to them whether they were kind, good-hearted people or not. And sometimes it helped to be a clown, but
only if you were already well-liked.
As I finished the book, I came to the conclusion that Hi
There, High School! would not have helped me much back in the day. It can give you plenty of advice, but if you’re
a jerk you’re not going to take it. And
if you’re already a decent person, the advice is superfluous. No book can give you a scintillating
personality or athletic or leadership skills.
So, if you are a relatively shy, insecure type with above average
intelligence who likes Shakespeare, Hollywood musicals, religious history, and Fred
and Ginger movies, you’re pretty much not going to be popular. But you will have your circle of mostly-like-minded
friends with whom you’ll get along just fine.
You will use a fork properly, behave with decorum at the movies, discover your sense of
humor halfway through your Freshman year, be funny amongst your friends and quiet with everyone else, go to approximately one football game
in four years, have a blast during Senior year because you’re taking mostly
electives, have your share of joys and heartaches, and graduate with few
regrets, but only a few. And that pang
will fade with the years, like so many other things.