HEY, I KNEW THAT GUY IN HIGH SCHOOL

A friend of mine once made an offhand remark that wound up changing the way I’ve looked at people ever since.

“Everyone is someone you knew in high school,” he said.

Now there are a couple of ways you can take this, but in the context of what we were talking about at the time, I knew right away what he meant. And I had to admit, he was right.

There’s something about high school – a vulnerability, an inexperience, call it what you will. But somehow, in the light of it, all things stand revealed. In high school, nothing can be hidden, though we no doubt wish it could. Like it or not, try as you might, in the implacable judgment of yourself and your peers, you’re an open book.

That's probably why high school is the land of eternal archetypes – the jock, the cheerleader, the wannabe, the politician, the conniver, the hoodlum, the geek, the goth. The names may change, but the types sure don't. After high school we find ways to cover these things up. Speech, dress, manners, occupations, possessions. The jock goes to college and becomes a lawyer. The geek makes money and hires a personal trainer. The cheerleader divorces the jock and goes into real estate. The politician sells life insurance and takes up golf.

But the point my friend was making is that none of this matters. Underneath the carefully accumulated adult accoutrements, the archetypes aren't lost. The jock will snap wet towels in the locker room. The conniver will look for an angle. The politician will seek your vote. The cheerleader will ignore the geek. The geek will assume he’s being ignored.

When you look at people the way they were in high school, the fog of adulthood lifts, the disguises vanish, and the archetypes are once again restored.

So, what? you say. That archetype is just an idea, a category of thought.  We can always change it.  In theory, you're right.  But in the modern world, you're wrong.

In the modern world, we educate ourselves on every subject except ourselves. We never try to see ourselves as others see us, so we remain strangers to who we really are.  We get out of high school or college or post-grad and we think our education is over. We rush through life, avoiding what we’re afraid of, going after what we want. We lead unexamined lives, so when we get to the end, we haven’t changed at all. We're the same people we were in high school.



We age the way a house ages.  Year in, year out, buffeted by the seasons, we fade, become dated, lose function, get cluttered.  From time to time, we may try a makeover – change the furniture, update the kitchen, add a master suite, repaint, recarpet. But fundamentally, we’re the same – Gothic Revival, Georgian Colonial, Split-level Ranch, Mid-Century Modern.  The same old house.

That’s what my friend meant. Most people don't change.  So if you can see them the way they were in high school, the disguises will fade away and you’ll see who they are.

As you get older, this trick gets easier and easier to perform. Sometimes it requires no effort at all. You look at a person and at the same time you see someone else – call it, the “high school version”. You’ll see the whole thing – who they are, who they were, who they think they are, and what they want you to see. It’s almost embarrassing, to tell the truth.

I remember the first time I saw George Bush, I thought right away, “Hey, I knew that guy in high school.”

"Uh-oh."