Distant Past

Over the past couple of months, I've had some friends reach out to me with one question in mind: am I planning to go to my high-school reunion?

To each of them, my answer has been the same: no.

Hanging in the 'Red Room': my bestie, Stu, me, and Kathy K.
Signing a yearbook, apparently. Photo shot with my camera, possibly by David "Sandy" B.

It's been 50 years since J.S. Woodsworth Secondary School opened its doors to teens in the Parkwood Hills/Borden Farm/City View/Country Place/Barrhaven areas. The school closed its doors in the mid-2000s, changing to a school within the Ottawa Catholic School Board shortly thereafter.

There was a mini-reunion, when J.S. closed down, with a school band playing, teachers wandering the halls, slideshows in the cafetorium, and general doors open. A couple of my friends, with whom I had still kept in touch, agreed to meet me there, and I brought my two kids to show them the halls and the places where I used to hang out.

By the time I got to the school, at the arranged time with my friends, some of the teachers that I had wanted to see again had already left: my music teacher, Mr. Linklater 'Link;' my English teacher, Mr. Lemke; one of my science teachers, Mr. Gray; one of my math teachers, Mr. Mullen. There were a couple of other teachers that could still be found but either they were teachers that I recognized but was never in any of their classes, or teachers I had studied under but wasn't interested in saying "hello" to.

My friends also never showed up so I ended up walking around the school with my kids, which took less than an hour to do, including watching some of the slideshow and sitting in the foyer, waiting to catch up with my friends who ended up ghosting me (one forgot; the other changed his mind).

While I sat in the foyer, a couple of students that I recognized from classes but never actually knew saw me and said hi. We exchanged pleasantries but that was about the extent of it.

As I made the decision to to leave, another person that I vaguely recognized approached me and asked if I would sign a form that would be used to keep me in touch with other students and be notified of the next reunion.

"No thanks," I said. Not in a mean-spirited kind of way, but firmly. I already had the contact information of people with whom I already kept in touch. I didn't want to hear from people who, after more than 20 years, I no longer knew.

And almost a year ago, I had heard through DW (who also went to J.S.) and some friends that a reunion was in the works for 2023, the 50th anniversary since the school's opening. Some of my friends were considering going but were still up in the air.

"If enough of you go," I said, "I'll go, too." It would be an excuse for all of us to meet in one place.

But as the date grew near, I went from a weak 'maybe' to a firm 'no.' I didn't want to go. I didn't want to see people that I hadn't seen in decades, people who I really didn't care about.

I don't miss the school: its halls, the classrooms, the gymnasium, nor the cafeteria.

Looking back, I had fun with friends and I still keep in touch with the closest, but I hated high school. And in the months leading up to my high school's 50th anniversary, I have realized just how much I had hated it.

Yeah, it would be nice to see Link again but it's not worth wading through all the other teachers, all the students, that I couldn't care less about. They're ghosts from a past that I'm happy to keep in that distant past.

I remember, in the last days of my final year, when the senior students were ushered into our cafetorium to watch a slideshow/video of images that were captured of our graduating class. Over it was a song that set the theme of the presentation, and it went on to say that these high-school years were the best years of our lives.

How depressing. And how utterly false.

My best years came long after I walked out of the doors of J.S. Woodsworth. I found joy in Journalism School, where I made more friends—some that I still have to this day. Even though I learned, soon after graduating and getting a job at a newspaper, that being a reporter was not a life that I wanted to pursue, I enjoyed the experience much more than my years in high school.

When I fell in love with a woman who would be my soulmate, that was one of the best times of my life. Years of travel have given me life experiences and (hopefully) wisdom. My kids have given me more joy than I can possibly imagine.

I have my health and I'm doing fine in life. I have my family and friends from all stages of life. I don't need to look back at high school, don't need to relive a time that I couldn't wait to be over.

No, I won't be going to my high school reunion. I have better things to do.

Like enjoy my life.