Though shyness can be a form of self-involvement, I nevertheless took note of everything and everyone around me. I was an observer, audience to the sometimes improvisational, yet mostly scripted, theater of adolescence. Hint, hint, should a publisher happen upon this blog post. Maybe it was to assure myself that time had diminished my awkwardness. Or to show that it no longer mattered to me whether I fit in or not. But really, I think it was to see how everyone had fared.
Ups, Downs, and Post-Its: How “Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion” Redefines Success
My forty-year reunion was a lovely event. Time is an equalizer.
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Country towns are small and, consequently, it is common for the wealthy and the poor to live within a few streets of each other. Each afternoon I would walk home from school with the sons of the local electrical repair man and the "night soil" carter, or "shit collector" as he was called. In retrospect, I guess I belonged to the upper end of the social spectrum in a very, very small pond. My father was a successful accountant and, as befits a socially responsible member of the local bourgeoisie, he was honorary treasurer of a dozen community organisations.
My mother was the last of a generation of women who never worked outside the family home. We fraternised, usually at private tennis courts on properties around the town, with other professionals and with the local "landed gentry" who, because the price of wool had made them rich, all sent their kids off to King's, PLC, Cranbrook, Ascham, Knox and Trinity Grammar.
High School Reunion
It never occurred to me partly, I suspect, because I have always been naively ignorant about social class and partly because my father passionately despised all social pretension that fraternising with the shit collector's son every afternoon, or being entranced by the local bookie's gorgeous daughter, was a kind of "social egalitarianism by stealth" that would have been impossible if I had grown up in a city.
In the classroom and in the playground we knew no social barriers or boundaries. We never asked, or even thought about, what our schoolmates' parents did, how much money people had or where people fitted into the social hierarchy. Social status was not part of our language. It played no part in the way we constructed our world. A decade ago someone stumbled upon the old Tumut Public School class rolls.
There, in inky copperplate, were our names, addresses and birth dates with neat ticks and crosses to indicate daily attendance.
High School Reunion
Given the prevailing age regulations, we were all born between February and March We were all about to turn 50 and because, back in the late s and early s, we had left school in a haphazard manner some left at the minimum age to work on family farms or in their dads' businesses, most left after the Intermediate Certificate, which was at the end of the third year of high school, a small number disappeared to private schools and about a dozen, out of a year of about 80 students, stayed on to complete the Leaving Certificate it was decided that a reunion to celebrate "turning 50" made good sense.
There are school reunions and school reunions. This was very, very special. Only in a relatively small country town can a school reunion be held in a group of buildings where the students experienced their kindergarten, infants, primary and secondary school education. The old Tumut Public School had seen us all sniffling and clinging to our mothers as we started kindergarten back in , had seen us move from primary to secondary ie to another room across the main hall in , and seen us sit for our Intermediate Certificate at the end of It had also seen us caned and humiliated, sent to stand in the corridor for minor infractions and demoralised by those inescapable barbarians and sadists masquerading as teachers.
Someone had the inspired idea that we should gather at 2. The locals, who constituted the majority of past students, brought the usual rural fare sponge cakes, lamingtons, scones, sandwiches and we all wallowed in a nostalgia made palpable by the fact that all the old schoolrooms were still intact. You haven't changed much, have you? There was an easy sense of warm, old-fashioned community.
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But why? What held us all together after all these years? On one level we did not really know each other. Most of us had not met for more than 35 years. In many ways, those years, between late teens and 50, are the defining years in a person's life. They are the period when values are really formed and solidified, when marriage or singleness is established, when children are born, when education for future employment takes place, when ladders of success are climbed or left unclimbed , when aspirations are achieved or dashed, when a sense of "this is who I am" is created, carefully tended and allowed to bloom.
Somehow, as we chatted and reminisced, the elements that separate people in the modern, adult world — status, wealth, success — dissolved as people as diverse as wealthy landowners, senior public servants, truck drivers, women who had devoted their lives to bringing up children, small-business people, shopkeepers, builders and many other occupations, met on a common and defining ground. Our lives, or at least a very significant part of them, were contained in those old rooms and that central hall.
Everyone felt that there was something unique and important about growing up in a country town after World War II. Connie has cultivated a particular manner of dressing, walking, and laughing that make her sexually appealing, although these mannerisms are only temporary affectations. She behaves one way in her home and an entirely different way when she is elsewhere.
Her personality is split, and when she is at home, her sexuality goes into hiding. Connie works hard to prove her maturity, but despite her efforts with clothes and boys, she is not as mature as she would like to believe she is. She desperately wants to be attractive to older men, but once an older man—Arnold—actually pays her explicit sexual attention, she is terrified. She knows little about reality or what adulthood actually entails, preferring to lose Measure drops of each solution by holding each bottle upside down and slowly squeezing until single drops are released.
Do not hold the bottles at an angle because the size of the drops will vary with the angle. Likewise, do not squeeze the bottles too quickly or too hard, or the amount of solution added will be immeasurable.
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The tests for the contaminants can be completed in any order. Notice that some of the reactions require a longer incubation time than others. Stop a test when color appears indicating the presence of the contaminant.
http://kinun-mobile.com/wp-content/2020-01-01/bove-best-cell.php The listed times are maximum incubation times. If no color appears by the end of the incubation time, the contaminant was not detected.
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Record the test results and your observations for each water sample. Record your ideas in your laboratory journal. Brainstorm ideas about how to remediate any contaminants found in both water samples. Make sure to include contaminants found in both this lab as well as the labs performed in Activity 4. In comparison a good example of a weak individual would be Konradin who is very much intimidated by the Nazi Party and their views.
Konradin is an example of a weak individual, which is apprehensive to the Nazi Party. Even though Hans is his best friend, when it comes to exposing his friendship to the rest of society, especially his parents he is very hesitant, as they despise Jews. I didn't want to Sign Up. Sign In. Sign Up Sign In. Home Essays A Class Reunion. Continue Reading Please join StudyMode to read the full document.
Essay about The Reunion