High school.

Those interesting days of our past when we darted through the world like the inside of a pinball machine trying to figure out what life is all about.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve moved on.

I’ve accepted that I’m nearing 40 and plucking the not-so-occasional gray hair from my head. That being said, I visited my old high school over the weekend for what was sadly the last basketball game ever for the Highland Scots. The Scottish tradition that meant so much to so many is coming to an end, following a decision to close the high school due to budget cuts.

It was bittersweet, but good to see old friends, familiar faces that once passed me in the halls and, amid camera flashes, joined me in moving our tassels from one side of our cap to the other on grad night. I had considered not going to the game, and it wasn’t until I was there, seeing former teachers with the same grins, hearing the hum of the traditional bagpipes and the drumroll that begins the school song did I realize how much I missed it.

We all have memories of our high school days. Here are six of my favorite:

Invading my sister’s locker in the senior commons as a freshman. They were wider and, let’s face it, where the action happened. She was kind enough to let me, though I know she had to quietly roll her eyes as I waved excitedly while walking in her direction.

Scot pops. Suckers shaped like our school mascot, a Scot, that were sold at basketball games. I remember being a young girl and walking with my dad to the upstairs concession stand to pick out my favorite flavor.

Slipping on a wet floor one rainy morning and wiping out in my cream suit the day of my big presentation in speech class. (Some things never change.) I now share this story with my 8-year-old when he gets frustrated over the small things in life. We all screw up. Yet, the sun will still rise tomorrow.

Chili and peanut butter sandwiches. School lunches don’t always get a good rap, but I didn’t miss on those days. Too bad restaurants don’t serve these two things together. And the brownies on spaghetti day took a close second.

White Rain hairspray. And all that hair. And hot rollers. And teasing it to make it even bigger. Enough said.

Not being able to get my locker open one morning of my junior year. It was jammed at the top, but would open at the bottom. Finally, my boyfriend came along, offered to help, and tugged so hard without time to move out of the way. Blood poured from my forehead as I made my way to the nurse’s office. It certainly made for an interesting story when the E-R asked what happened: ‘I got hit in the head…by a locker.’

And that’s six.

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