And I was a Boy from School

I was talking to a friend from school yesterday. Now if someone approached you and said "I'm from the Western Isles" in some odd dialect, then you probably wouldn't know how to react. But that is the beauty of school. When you get with someone from the past and start talking about Mr Mackay's obsession with watching political broadcasts into the early hours of the morning, Mrs Rankin's very obvious reliance on alcohol, and the Owl Lady's inability to grasp reality and the concept of people, it tends to exclude or piss off newer friends who aren't in on all the hilarity.

The debate society was BS, I mean great
 (sorry, another unfunny in-joke)

I always find meeting people you knew from high school an uncomfortable experience. For some reason people that barely spoke to you, and even people that loathed you suddenly act like they were once your favourite deputy (no I'm not referring to you Tam/Ross). I've had a couple of meetings like this, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. But despite this charade, people barely really change from the school days. Whether they were hell or the best days of your life, school was a very influential experience. Well, it was for me. Oddly, it usually wasn't the educational curriculum that affected me most. Despite the important placed on sciences and mathematics, I can guarantee I will forget most of the stuff in a couple of years time (despite my mother hiring a tutor I still managed to fail higher maths). Mr Mackay, my Modern Studies teacher at the age of 15 is the reason I vote, the reason I watch political interviews, and the reason I sit on the edge of my seat during Prime Minister's question time. Despite his tendency to constantly remind the class where he was from, his enthusiasm was unmatched as he thrust his hairy hand out in a fist to represent Margaret Thatcher 'grasping the nettle', gazing at you with a fierce passion in oddly positioned eyes

Mr Stuart got me into Progressive Rock. And Mr Wilson was highly quotable. And if I had never gone to Johnstone Highschool, I probably would have turned into an annoying, middle class* (god I hate using that expression) twat. 99% of my sexual education came from playground obscenities and insults. People can rant and rave about badmouthing gays in the playground, but I wouldn't have discovered the whole thing until a decade or so later if it wasn't for school.

But by now there isn't really a strong point to this entry. I'm reminiscing like an old git in a care home. I just liked to remember that for every time I was insulted or pushed into a wall or asked to do work which had no relevance to me, there would be a time where I watched Kevin McGrady's face as he saw the unpleasant caricature I'd drawn of him, or a time where I'd thrown a 10kg weight against a treadmill in the PE department going at full speed. Oh christ, not another preachy end to a blog entry. I've already been told off for this.

*Not 100% sure if I'm middle class, or working class, or middle-working class or whatever. It's all a bit funny. I mean I don't even have a job just now, so I don't suppose I'm any class.