Niece starting high school recalls early days at South High

My 14-year-old niece Brittany is starting high school in a couple of weeks and can hardly wait for things to begin. Like the rest of us, she'll find out that high school is a four-year roller coaster ride with plenty of emotional ups, downs, twists and turns. And I'd guess most of the life lessons she learns won't be in the classroom either.

High school is about fitting in. I'll admit to being a nervous freshman that first day walking through those gates to South High School in Torrance, Calif. It was about four times bigger than Seaside Elementary and there were hundreds of kids I'd never seen before. Some of them seniors, too. And when you're 14 years old, there's a wide chasm -- physically, mentally . . . and socially -- between you and someone who is 17 or 18.

But things turned out OK when I saw a group of Burnout Beach surfing buddies sitting on a brick wall near the outside lunch tables. I wasn't alone. And some of those guys were sophomores and juniors . . . "experienced" scholars no doubt.

Soon those first days morphed into a routine that varied little for the first couple of years. Get up, eat a bite of Mom's breakfast, grab the books, wait on the corner for Mark Patton or Steve Rink, and walk two miles up and down a couple of big hills to the campus of red brick buildings, trees and green sports fields.

School backpacks hadn't been invented yet, so we carried our books curled awkwardly under our arms. My schedule included PE, English, social studies, German, history, math, journalism and woodshop. Teachers of the latter two classes left a lasting impression on me. Mr. Rische for inspiring me to become a writer and Mr. Maley for confiscating a guy's cigarettes and cutting them up on the band saw.

High school is about socializing. At South, the best time for visiting was before class in the outdoor locker bays, the 20-minute snack  period or lunchtime. Mom usually packed a lunch of sandwich, apple/banana, chips and cookie (wrapped in wax paper) in a brown bag and I ate on the outdoor benches. Rarely did I venture into the cafeteria.

There was lots to see and do while dining al fresco in the mild southern California climate. Watching kids playing intramural basketball or volleyball, taking photos for a journalism assignment, and greeting buddies -- or girls as they strolled by in their dresses. Yes dresses . . . pants or shorts wouldn't be allowed for girls (except on Bermuda day) for years to come.

Dances, football games and other school events also drew kids together. Dances in the gym were pretty good with bands like The Challengers, but the Spartan football team was lackluster at best and only won a couple of games the entire four years I was there.

High school is about rejection . . . and opportunity. In high school, there's almost nothing worse than having a pretty girl say no when you ask her for a date, or even a dance. Of course, I was too shy to ask very often. But when I did and heard the word "yes," it was like hearing a Beethoven symphony.

So Brittany, let me tell you what an old guy named Charlie Parkening once told me. "Kid. You're at the end of your troubles . . .  the front end." Have fun and hang on. That roller coaster ride is about to begin.