<font>We all remember high school, don’t we? Teenage angst attacked us all and the world seemed against us all. Our bodied betrayed us in one way shape or form, we had friends and we all had enemies and the strength of your experiences usually came down to where you were on the social food chain. And most of us would rather forget most of high school, unless you’re a masochist.  </font>

A week or so ago I received news that yet another high school reunion had been planned for this month. Oh joy, I said (Spot the sarcasm) and I right then and there decided that there was no way in hell (and not the good kind with the fire but the bad kind filled with Disney movies and Celine Dion playing 24/7) that I would go.

See, the high school I went to was that institution with the identity crisis, Broadmeadow High. Half way through my tenure there is changed to the Broadmeadow School to accommodate Kindergarten through to year six and recently, in the grand scheme of things, it has become the Hunter School of Performing Arts. Hhmmm, aren’t we important now.

While it was by no means an unredeemable experience for me, it wasn’t pleasant for the six years I was there. And yes before you say it, I was not one of the popular kids. Oh, boo hoo for me. Not everybody was, I understand that but most people have that one emotional pain from high school that is still with us and will never ever leave us. Mainly that is because we are developing as human beings and an emotion trauma can affect you a hell of a lot more. It can even go as far as to stain all the good things to come.

But alas, I do not have one of those stories; I’m one of the lucky ones I suppose. I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t a rev head, a nerd, a geek, an athlete, a brain, a druggy, a pretty boy or a teacher’s pet. I was an outsider. I stood outside the field of play, so to speak. Everybody knew who I was but I was never engaged in on group, I interacted with all of them on some level. I don’t know if they were confused because I didn’t play the game or scared of me because I always wore a coat with my long hair and goatee and looked moody on occasion. Whatever is was I had a level of freedom most others in the wasteland of high school social politics didn’t.

I saw how some people had fun at the expense of others. And it wasn’t just the students who did this, some of the teachers would single out students too for humiliation and intimidation and any parent who thinks teachers don’t do this, think again idiot. Come on, who had a know paedophile teaching music at our school but the outside world didn’t know it until he was caught but we all did.

But that is an extreme. All the trauma you fell at a high school comes back at a reunion and I have no intension of going this time to see the same mix of wanna be’s, wankers and witches puff  with pomp and circumstance and try and outdo each other on who is the happiest and the most successful. I’d rather be beaten to death by a wiggle. Most of these people, the ones who organise these reunions, are the biggest lot of bitchy conformers who tortured the rest of the 70 to 80 percent of the student body as a way of reconnecting and reasserting there formers dominance. Why would anyone want to put themselves through that?

Believe me, I know. I’ve already been to one and avoided another. And for those who really do want to catch up with old buddies find that they didn’t come or don’t care. The only thing that is worth the trip is the alcohol and the induced fantasy that one of the hot popular crowd wants you.

I’d rather stay at home with a friend, a bottle of wine, maybe a pizza and watch Grosse Point Blank.

And like that movie, life after high school is far more interesting. So if in the future, if you see the is a reunion on for your school year, take my advice Newcastle, go to dinner or even to the pub with someone you actually what to see. You simple don’t need the aggravation.