I have a confession. I’ve been keeping a secret for 30 years. It’s not like I haven’t talked about it from time to time, it’s just I don’t bring it up. I hesitate to spill the beans especially with my 30th reunion coming up. But here goes, my deep dark secret:
I didn’t actually graduate with the class of 81 from Buffalo Grove High School. I dropped out my senior year with 3 months left to go. I KNOW, I KNOW, it was crazy. What seemed like a wrong choice at the time, turned out to be the Grace of God. He was way ahead of me.
30 years ago, behind the outward smile, was someone who was holding it together by a thread. My life at home was more than difficult, it was impossible and nobody knew. There were things going on that were just too hard for this average 17 year old to manage relationally on her own. I’ll spare you the gory details. On top of that, there were pressures at school that I wasn’t dealing with well. And then throw in a few ‘bitchy’ girlfriend moments that put me over the edge. I was done and depleted. One day in Doc’s graphic’s art class, I just got up, and walked out. I couldn’t believe the nerve it took to do it, but it was my first outright act of independence. My father didn’t speak to me for a month.
Within a few weeks, I had job and was working full-time for a kind dentist in Northbrook. Not too long after I dropped out, I got a post card addressed to me in the mail for night school. The kicker was night school was held at Hersey High School. My first thought was, “I’m a Bison, I can’t go to Hersey! I’ve been to every football game and basketball game; even dressed up as Bernie, the B.G. mascot, for a few football games.” But there were a few rational reasons I had to put my Blue and Orange loyalty aside (along with my pride).
For starters, the post card for night school said that I could get my own high school diploma (not Hersey’s). Okay, they had my attention. Then they said I could work full time and go to school at night (I must have been naive enough to think I could pull that off). Lastly, they said that there was NO homework. I’m in. Where do I sign up? (By the way, they lied. There was lots of homework). But the honest reason I went back to school was this small voice in my head that imagined one day my future kid saying, “Well, you dropped out of high school, why can’t I?” That was the real reason I walked into Hersey High School. It was weird, but it was one of the best things I ever did. It began my life-long love of learning.
At night school, I was surrounded by a bunch of wonderful burnouts. I didn’t smoke or drink (then) but had such a fun time getting to know these rabble-rousers (I was more of a rebel then I let on myself). The first week of school the director of the program walked up to me in the hallway and said the first words that would change the course of my life. ‘Kimberly, when you’re not too busy, I’d like to sit down to find out what makes you tick.” I thought he said, ‘ticked’ (like what makes me ticked off). His name was Jim and he was the first adult in 18 years who wanted to get to know me; and asked what was personally going on behind the Pollyanna smile. When we finally sat down to talk, he had my life story in 10 minutes.
Soon Jim and his wife Marlene (and their two sweet daughters) were inviting me to come live with them. Good thing, because at the time I was homeless. I turned 18 and walked out the door of my house without a plan or a place to live. Jim and Marlene showed me what it was like to be a respected member in a loving family. They took me on vacation, laughed and cried with me, even bought me a car and then let me pay them back $25 dollars a month. I wasn’t the only lost student who came from a difficult family to live with this family. Jim and Marlene took in many others before me. Jim saw the value and good in teenagers. He also told us when we were full of shit. I was accountable for my actions but I was loved. Some of the most spirited conversations I’ve ever had sorting through life’s issues were with Jim. I am forever grateful that they choose me to be a part of their family for that season of my life. God knew what I needed.
On my birthday the following year, Jim handed me a present. It was my Buffalo Grove High School Diploma. They were proud of me for graduating given the circumstances that I overcame. It took me 1 year to finish up 3 months of school. I was proud of myself too. However, when I looked at the year I graduated stamped on the diploma, my heart sank. It said, 1982. I tried to look happy but deep down I felt like a failure. I’d never wear a cap n’ gown.
Fast-forward a decade. I still had not resolved the issues I had with some former girlfriends. We had not spoken in 10 years. And of course because my diploma said 1982, I didn’t show up to my 10-year reunion because I didn’t think I belonged. I felt too much shame by then for dropping out. Shame can make us slaves to regret. It took another 10 years for me to decide to look up my former classmates and friends on classmates.com. All the old hurt and feelings of rejection melted away once we started talking again. We were different people and had grown up. We were mothers with kids. We were more accepting of each other now. Gone was the insecurity and occasional outburst of ‘mean’ girl gossip behavior. I had no bad feelings and just enjoyed getting to know them as adults. I highly recommend letting go of anything that dates back before Farrah Fawcett-hair. Really, let it go people! Let go of the failure or shame, the disappointments, especially the ancient history misfired war of words between old friends. It’s just a waste of energy.
Reuniting with my childhood friends was so much fun. It surprised me when we reconnected that none of them had changed in 20 years (except the hair). Seriously, it was like time had stopped. And they thought the same thing about me too; I hadn’t changed one bit. That was weird because I thought I had changed a lot. What I realized is we had all changed, but our basic core personality was still the same. That was kind of freaky. Time has a way of warping things, including our own perception. We are who we are; personal quirks never change. They had the same laughter and smile I remembered. I enjoyed and appreciated them so much more as an adult.
These reconnections via classmates.com happened six months before the 20th reunion. I wondered if I should go to the reunion. I really wanted to be there with everyone. But according to my diploma, I’m apart of the class of 82. Working hard not to care about this technicality, I signed up to go to the class of 81 reunion; and hoped they had forgotten I had dropped out. I secretly felt like I was crashing a party. My heart was pounding when I stepped up to get my nametag. It was there on the table with that goofy senior picture of me on it (How did I pull that off?). I kept thinking someone was going to double check the class list and say, “Um, Kim Wayne, we don’t see your name on the register for graduating class of 1981. Sorry but you’ll have to leave.” I wondered if someone would say, “Hey didn’t you drop out?” Nobody did. Maybe they did forget or were just too polite to embarrass me? I had a great time at the reunion. And for the last decade have had a blast building new memories with my old high school friends.
So why does the 30th reunion still cause me to feel those same shadow feelings of not ‘actually’ belonging with my class--even though I spent 3.75 critical years of life with them? It’s so foolish. Deep down, I realize that I do belong (always have). My heart has always been with the class of 81. I just want to come clean and be honest, with no skeletons in the closet. Trying to live life authentically has been something that I’ve been doing in many areas of my life. There is no shame or sign that I carry around my neck because I finished my last three months of high school at Hersey. I am a Bison. I taught my son and our step-kids the Bison fight song as soon as they were old enough to know what a Bison was. I’m blue and orange to the core. And, unless Mark Lyons says I can’t go to the 30th reunion, I’m going! (We all know Mark’s heart connecting the class of 81 together throughout the years). And since Dr. Miller isn’t around anymore to grant me Dist. 214 absolution, I’ll take Mark’s. Besides, he loves me. So unless he says, otherwise, I’ll see you in October; I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Whew, glad to finally get that off my chest!
PS. Before I posted this I sent it to Mark. I got a sweet personal phone call from Mark saying, “Of course I may go to the reunion!” And that I’m forever a part of the class of 81! :-D “We will cheer for you, knowing you’ll come through……for glory for Orange and Blue!!”
