I'm the kind of person who skips to the conversation when reading a book.
We were working in the concession stand for a girls’ soccer game. The boys’ soccer moms volunteer to man the stand for the girls’ games and vice versa.
The conversation had begun innocently enough. “Did you go to the pasta party last night?” I had asked.
“No,” she answered, but she had a funny look on her face, like she wanted to say more.
“Oh, did you go to the Open House instead?” I asked. The pasta party was the same night as the high school open house. I had gone to that to say hello to each of Finley’s teachers. He’s not struggling with school; I just wanted faces to put with names, and I wanted them to know that I appreciated what they were doing in my child’s life. Teachers get a lot of crap these days.
“No, I didn’t go to that either,” she said. There was a long pause, and then she added, “I was upset. The word about the pasta party didn’t make it to everyone. There were some pretty hurt feelings.”
“Really?” I was surprised. “Not everyone knew?” I asked.
“Don’t you think there’s just a small group of people who call all the shots? If you’re not in the ‘in’ crowd, you miss out,” she explained. “I’m 45 years old, and not in high school anymore.” That was when she added the some-people-just-make-me-feel-like-I’m-back-in-high-school comment.
Yes, it is s true. Some people make us feel like we’re back in high school, walking into the high school cafeteria and wondering which table will accept us to sit with them. Some people make us feel like they want us on their team in gym class, while other people make it clear that we are the last person they want to play kick ball with. Some people are sidewalk people, and totally unaware that there are other people in the world besides them and their immediate clique.
I felt bad that Sue and some of the other soccer moms were feeling like that. We can do better. Much better.
My gut feeling is that elect a lot of these high=school types to congress or other government positions.
The guys in Washington are the grown-up ball-hogs from basketball.
I’m so glad I’m a homebody.
And a nobody.
I graduated from high school a long time ago.
You couldn’t pay me enough to go back.