Hmm.

There were wonderful teachers, like our choral director Gordon Adams, who definitely got more than one kid through those four years, compromising with punk rockers on the performance dress code ("you can wear your boots if you wear the suit") and taking heat from the administration over it.

But high school wasn't so bad honestly. My peers matured a lot when we all hit the ninth grade and merged with another school. I made lasting friends and did nerdy and less-nerdy things with impunity. Hell, I lettered in cross country.

Before that, though, I was public enemy number one. Yep, from the day I arrived in town in the fourth grade and said, "hey! have you guys heard about the gas crunch?"

Yes, I was that kid: full of adult knowledge and words, and hopelessly socially unskilled.

I was verbally, though not physically, pummeled for the ensuing five years. I had no friends that lasted; as soon as someone warned them I wasn't cool, they got the hell away from Toxic Boy.

So I have to give props to my mom, who said:

"Adults are going to tell you these are the best years of your life. Don't listen to them. I remember being your age. It was terrible."

Mom was on the "It Gets Better" train before it was cool.