Write a letter forgiving an old enemy

Dear Woodridge State High School (WSHS),

Next year will mark the 20 year anniversary of our break-up. Twenty years! Considering we were only together for five years (grades 8-12, 1988-1993), it’s about time I forgave you. I think it’s important however to give you reasons as to why, for a long time, I considered you an enemy.

Firstly, I resented that substandard student attendance, a low socio economic catchment area, poor academic record and brutality on the sporting field branded us as ‘rough’ and ‘povo’*. I resented your complicity in offering up teenage pregnancy as a viable career option. I resented your proclivity for hiring teachers with dubious experience and even more dubious morals. Yes, it was true that Mr Ewell married a student and that the hot sports teacher was dealing ecstasy to the year 12 boys. I hated that calling someone a ‘poof’ was a-okay – nay, encouraged by you. I hated that you didn’t put a stop to the merciless bullying of that strange boy who wore perfectly ironed shorts and did ballroom dancing. I hated that I dyed my hair blonde and teased my fringe up into a fan shape for you. I also wore brown brogues with men’s knee high socks (scrunched down to mid calf) to try and please you. I hated that the absence of any career counselling left me with no ambitions greater than marrying Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam.  I hated that none of the basketball boys wanted to go out with me. I hated that anybody who had money or anybody displaying any form of talent was immediately shot down as being ‘up themselves’ or ‘stuck up’. I hate that this attitude has followed me through adulthood.

But, as this is supposed to be a letter of forgiveness, it’s important to remember the many things that I actually liked about our time together, Woodridge State High School. Firstly, I’ve you to thank for introducing me to the boy who would be my first ‘real’ boyfriend. We went on to spend over four years together – much of that time exploring the world (or at least the miserable bedsits of London).

‘Cultural diversity’ was not something to shout loud and proud about in the '80s and early '90s – but that’s what you offered – many years before it was fashionable to have brown-skinned friends. Sure, I didn’t see my first orthodox Jew until I was 22, but, sharing a class with beefy Tongans, impossible to understand (and impossibly cool) Maoris, and tough aboriginal kids gave me exposure to lives beyond my own white bread, comfortable home life. It also forced me to stand up for myself and recognise an injustice when I see it.

But, just one more thing before this gets too gushy...why do the kids of the year 2000s get to wear slightly tasteful uniforms? Perhaps you thought that pairing a yellow polo shirt with teenage acne helped keep the teenage pregnancy rate down?

Eagerly awaiting the 20 year reunion,

Kristen

*Popular slang in 1989 for ‘poverty’

 Thank you internet for not housing one photo of me from my school years. So, whilst this isn't my class, I wish it was.