Somewhere in the Middle: Drama Queen on Facebook

Somebody once said that high school is "the mouse race that prepares you for the rat race," and I suppose there's a glimmer of truth in that. Like a wardrobe of cruel shoes, my high school days were among the most painful in my life.

I attended a public high school in the early 1970s. In those days, especially if you lived in a small Midwestern town, conformity was key. So there I was, a flat-chested drama club nerd and closet poet in a school where accomplished jocks and curvy cheerleaders ruled. Social life typically revolved around Friday night football or basketball games -- but I had to fake any interest in sports. Come to think of it, I felt like an imposter throughout most of high school.

My real definition of "teamwork" was shopping for props and costumes for the school plays. And I adored the drama teacher. Not surprisingly, a lot of kids snickered behind his back, secretly questioning his sexual orientation. I still credit him and my humanities teacher for making high school bearable and interesting.

But the English teacher took a serious dislike to me. Of course, it didn't help that I sat with chatty classmates and talked too much in literature class. Regardless, the English teacher doubted my budding writing skills, and wrongly accused me of plagiarizing a term paper on the subject of medieval chivalry -- a subject I loved and read about voraciously. She nearly flunked me out of senior English, which pulled my GPA down a peg or two. Not to mention my pride.

In other words, in high school I received little encouragement for the things I truly loved and excelled in. I couldn't wait to leave home for college.
So it might come as a surprise when I tell you that lately I've been reconnecting with former schoolmates on Facebook -- and genuinely enjoying it.

Facing the past   It all began last year when I found Robert, the free-spirited guy who played opposite my lead in the all-school play in 1971. My favorite memory of Robert is the time he and I staged a protest after one of our dress rehearsals got canceled on short notice; we'd been told to move our entourage elsewhere, since the school auditorium was needed for an athletic event. Enraged, Robert and I led a small march (I think there were four of us) to the local school board, ranting all the way about how sick we were of playing second fiddle to the basketball team.

On Facebook, I was thrilled and proud to discover that Robert had moved to Chicago, where he became an award-winning journalist and author with several fine books to his credit.

Of course, once you crack open a few pages on Facebook, it's hard to stop.

Before long, I started hearing from other schoolmates. Earlier this summer, Colleen contacted me to ask why I had stopped writing my column in the local newspaper. I was flattered to learn she'd been reading it for years. When she "friended" me on Facebook, Colleen said she wondered if I would remember her. As she explained it, she'd been "a rebel" in high school, and we didn't hang with the same crowd. But I did remember. And even though I was a drama nerd, I'd always secretly admired the "rebels." Unlike the jocks, who were too frigging cool to dress up in costumes, some of the rebels had the guts to try out for the school plays.

From beauty queens to band nerds, my Facebook classmates are a fascinating bunch now, and I'm proud of them. Their profiles and family photos reveal that they've crafted rich and interesting lives over the past 37 years. One is a psychotherapist; another is a fitness instructor; several work in education, finance, and medicine. Some even share my political opinions, and it's been fun airing our views in private messages. Others, having been through their own share of medical crises, are at the ready to help with mine. Last week, when I mentioned in my Facebook status that I was struggling to find a neurologist for my mother, several friends sent recommendations -- complete with addresses and phone numbers.

All said and done, midlife is a lot more fun than adolescence. It makes us kinder to each other. It sharpens our perspective and thickens our skin -- wrinkles and sags be damned.
Like my classmates on Facebook, I've endured several crises and turning points, and these have shaped the woman I am.

I've given birth to an amazing son, come to terms with the loss of my father, and, more recently, watched my only uncle die a slow death from pancreatic cancer. I've survived two hip replacement surgeries and learned to walk again. I've driven my elderly mother to emergency rooms, and watched my son graduate from college. I've happily celebrated nearly 30 years of a nurturing marriage.

But it's been years since I've cared enough to keep score. Grades, trophies, contests, degrees, salaries, and other so-called measures of achievement or popularity no longer mean as much to me. Best of all, I've finally made peace with my inner drama queen, who now finds expression through writing and the visual arts. I give her free reign now.

Cindy La Ferle is a nationally published Oakland County freelance writer. She's author of an award-winning essay collection, Writing Home which is distributed to bookstores by Wayne State University Press and is available on Amazon.com. Cindy also leads writing workshops and events in the metro-Detroit area. Visit her Web site http://www.laferle.com for more information.