Shell Shocked Part 1

I wasn’t able to attend my 10 year reunion last weekend, and that left me wondering about my school days. Regardless of the reunion, I reflect back on those times regularly.

I reflect to remember the good times… to jump back in my kid shoes that match up with the kid heart I carry with me always. I reflect to learn a lesson that may not have been visible to my immature eyes at the time it was originally presented.

Ever since I can remember, I was a class clown. I would crack jokes and act goofy partly for attention, partly to entertain, and lastly to push things to the edge.

To see someone else’s enjoyment is just as satisfying as seeing my own. Put simply, the former guarantees the latter. It’s a perpetual cycle of enjoyment.

I was able to goof off because I got good grades. I got good grades because I had smart parents, a photographic memory, and good memorization skills. And let’s face it, school these days’ is heavy on memorization and light on actual learning and retention.

So, as you could imagine, the teachers didn’t very much care for my performances. They weren’t happy because some of the people I put on a show for didn’t get good grades, and needed to pay extra attention in class just to pass.

Trouble followed. First from school disciplinarians and then it doubled from my parents when I got home.