Welcome to the beginning of chapter four of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It (or) What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. In this riveting interlude, we jump back into the present where Scott McKinstry and I get a chance to meet with an old teacher friend of ours in Teacher’s Pet. If you missed the last post, click here, otherwise, you can start at the beginning here.
In my excitement earlier on Saturday, I had sent a text message to our favorite teacher and friend, Scott Burnett. He responded promptly and made himself available for a visit. Bright and early Sunday morning we met up with him at Calico Cupboard for some good old small town breakfast. Mr. Burnett, who hates it when I still call him that, was our history and drama teacher and had become a good friend over the years. He walked in with a huge smile and a warm hug.
Other than donning a bit more gray hair, he was the same as I remember him. Loving, friendly, wise, yet occasionally apt to spout off about a political opinion here and there. I always felt that he tended to lean on Mr. McKinstry a bit more during these tirades. Perhaps he thought Scott would be more sympathetic than I would. Both of us have been good at holding back a bit to keep the interactions amicable for all concerned. After all, religion, politics, (and nowadays even nutrition) all get people on edge and agitated quite easily, and Scott and I tend to shy away from confrontation most of the time.
The majority of our conversation, however, was just like any other old friends catching up. He now lived in Anacortes right near the high school and his kids had grown up and embarked on some wonderful adventures of their own. We enjoyed the fact that we were there his first year at Anacortes, and we shared in the launching of a new drama program under his tutelage. We found out that Scott Dickison and his wife Tracy had both become teachers, and Dickison worked at the high school with Mr. Burnett. I’m not sure if he was joking, but Mr. Burnett did at one point turn to us and say something to the effect of, “Now all I have to do is convince you guys that the solution to all of your problems is to become a teacher.” I am not sure if he was pulling our legs (mine very hairy, and McKinstry’s still quite hairless) or completely serious, but I did stop for a moment and contemplate the possibility. He had a pretty decent gig if you ask me.
He was surprised that I was still doing theater a bit here and there, as he thought I had given it up entirely, but he was particularly interested in what Scott McKinstry was doing now with his life (as was I). Scott made a decision to get into the fascinating field of copyrighting, more specifically marketing copy and marketing with a story. His primary client was a nutrition company with a rapidly expanding Internet presence, to which Scott was creating very compelling sales copy in order to drive sales. He was making a living doing something many people can’t fathom doing on their own, and those that do often aren’t at the level that Scott has achieved and therefore never dream of earning a living doing it. We were both impressed and proud of Scott.
In light of the event we had come up to Anacortes to take part in, I was particularly fascinated with Mr. Burnett’s views on the passage of time, the changes in the school and the town that we all loved so well. He informed us that many of the teachers we knew were now retired, and very few of the old guard remained. He talked about what had changed in the drama program, and how it had really blossomed over the years to be a well-regarded extra-curricular option at the school. We learned about how he would occasionally bump into some of his students that had stayed in town, and how their lives had turned out. All of it was great to hear, and we really loved the idea that he still held us in high regard.
He did mention an improvement that he thought was particularly good. He was happy to say that a few years after we left, some changes had been implemented. Of course, the REACH program had been dismantled due to the aforementioned lackadaisical side-effects of too much student freedom. That wasn’t the change he was referring to, though.
“Thankfully, they finally got rid of the ‘Senior Row’. The lockers were mixed up, and that really helped to reduce the conflicts among the students.”
I froze and remained quiet. I realized that one of my favorite moments of clarity and victory in the courtroom of AHS fighting the establishment was all for naught. My Greek city-state had tumbled, and the Roman empire had prevailed. Alas, it was inevitable, but I still secretly shed a tear and reminded myself that Mr. Burnett and I could agree to disagree while remaining friends—especially if I never brought it up… Nevermind, he’s crazy and I don’t agree with fifty-percent of what he says. I think we are politically on the opposite ends of the spectrum, which is probably why I like him. I’m a bit crazy too and occasionally desire a good prickly debate—and crazy people always have the most fun in debates because… We’re crazy!
When our server brought us the check, I decided to shake off my freeze with a little gregarious and lighthearted conversation. She obviously knew our Mr. Burnett and seemed at least somewhat interested in our discussion about high school. She said she had also graduated from Anacortes High School.
With a bit of excitement at the idea of discussing this reunion phenomenon and all the wonderful nostalgia permeating the room, I chimed in with:
“Oh, when did you graduate?”
“Two-thousand sixteen.”
I froze a second time. I think for once in my life I had nothing to say while I struggled to stop the shock and awe betwixt holding down existential tears of angst and frustration. I just smiled and nodded. I realized that we had graduated before she was born, and we must look like a quaint little group of obsolete fuddy-duddy old men huddled at the table—reliving ancient memories that she undoubtedly would never understand, much less care anything about.
My first interview of Chapter 4 is with Chris Ellis. Stay tuned!
Are you from Generation X? I want to hear what you think! Please comment below and participate in the conversation about What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. What do you wish someone told you when you were eighteen?
