Friday was the Squeenager’s fifteenth birthday, which put me into deep introspection for several days leading up to and away from the day. Fifteen seems so young when you are over thirty, and yet it’s also an evident sign that my days with her at home are growing shorter. In three years she will graduate high school, maybe take a year off from school to hang out in France, and then hopefully she’ll go to college.
Every one of her birthdays puts me in touch with not only my current age, but also my youth. I remember turning fifteen. It was the year I really knew that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, and nothing else would do. It was also the year I spent partying excessively and concert hopping to an extent that destroyed my grade point average. Of course, when you’re fifteen and in that frame of mind, no one is more shocked than you are by your own failure, and my parents refused to pay for summer school as part of my punishment.
The largest punishment in my sentencing was repeating the ninth grade. During the summer months after that fateful year, I was pretty sure my life was over. All those people I had gone to school with since kindergarten, some of whom called themselves my friends, moved on and completely forget I ever knew them. I didn’t know how I would move on because let’s face it. Real life is nothing like High School Musical.
Then I met this girl named Aimee. She had a huge mouth and wasn’t afraid to put herself out there. By the end of week one on the ninth grade repeat, I had a new group of friends I felt more connected to than any of the people I had gone to school with most of my life. As all teenagers do, we had our ups and downs throughout the final years of high school, but we fit well together, and the group of friends I met during my big fail year made high school not only tolerable, but fun.
And this reminds me of what the Squeenager has gone through this last year. She spent her entire school life attending the same school with the same set of kids. Unfortunately, her best friend since the fourth grade turned out to be a pretty crappy friend and a bit of a troublemaker, and just before we moved they had all but severed their friendship completely. Squeenager didn’t really want to let her go, but was afraid she’d never make any new friends. Then there was the divorce, and she and I moved to a new town with a new school. I imagine her terror was ten times my own, as at least I was familiar with the school I’d failed in. I still knew the people and the teachers, the hallways like the back of my hand. She knew nothing about the situation she was going into. I worried she would quickly fall behind, but she surprised me.
Each day as she came home from school, she was more excited than the last. She bumped into some of the people she had met at the skating rink the year before, and was quickly making new friends. It was like she had an opportunity to do things over, and she wasn’t going to deny being herself this time. She wasn’t going to pretend to be someone just to fit in, and the fact that she was so genuine won a lot of people over.
Last night at her birthday party, I thought about my birthday the year of the ninth grade reboot. With new friends I could actually identify and be myself with, it was probably the best birthday party I’d ever had. Listening to her laugh and dish with her new friends last night, I’m thinking this was probably the best birthday party she’s had yet.
Fifteen. Wow. In my own life, I have no regrets. Not even failing ninth grade. Every experience I endured made me who I am today, and I keep hoping that even when things seem like they’re too tough to endure for my own daughter, it’ll be these times she looks back on as some of the best in her life. Fifteen was the first year of my life that I really felt alive in a world full of possibility. I wonder if that’s how she feels?
Despite the difficulties she faced this last year, I hope she also remembers this as the year she made real friends and real memories–the year high school wasn’t really all that bad.
I’m sure it was a birthday she’ll never forget, if for nothing else than for those cool, pink, skull plates
Oh to be 15 again…
This has been a transition year for my DD too. And surprising all of us-herself most I think- she has done wonderfully. Made good friends, excelled at school, and begun stretching her wings. The teen years are so fundamental, I’m glad our two girls have had a do-overs.
I was 15 when I had my first date with my wife and now our daughter is 15. Our daughter too changed schools this year and she too has adapted very well. 15, what an amazing year.
We’re about to move, and uproot my oldest son from his school and friends. We’re keeping him at the same school until the end of the year, but he has a whole pack of friends that he’ll be leaving. Hearing that a teenager handled switching schools easily makes me more hopeful for a 7 yr old.
That said, you couldn’t pay me to be 15 again. I’d love to have memories of a year high school didn’t suck.
Fifteen is a big year for change it seems. It was big move year for me way back when, and a big change for my older two kids as well. Glad to hear you folks had a good party and a good change. Next up.. sixteen!
Have you reminded her twenty gazillion times that she’ll always be your “little girl”? Happy Birthday to her!
My guys are so far away from 15 right now I can’t even comprehend it. I too had a rough year, failing all but one class in high school (failed English, but passed music, go figure). I hope I will remember my youth when they are struggling, and show the same empathy you show the Squeenager.