A large number of Western young people do not finish high school, seeing no value in its completion. (1) I had personal experience with the concept of quitting school. Fifty years ago, in my Grade One class, there were sixty students: ten white children and fifty aboriginal children. These were the beginning years of the integration of native children into “normal” Canadian society. Canada, like many Western nations, has an unfortunate legacy with its minorities, this includes the Chinese people. The dropout rate amongst the native children was, and continues to be, outstanding. Not one of these children from my elementary class graduated from school twelve years later.
I remember Grade Eight as an exceptional and memorable year. In my village, hierarchy was based on car ownership: no car equaled — no girlfriend. I didn’t own a car and was therefore a bachelor; at the age of fourteen, I was afraid that this might become a lifetime affliction. The most beautiful girl in our class was named Judy Morgan. She had iridescent, blazing hair and a complexion that Aphrodite (2) would have been proud of. Her boyfriend had, of course, an absolutely magnificent, baby-blue, sports car. It purred with power and virility as it shot down the broad, humble streets of our little community. As it passed by, with Judy’s flowing hair further punctuating the experience, I felt like a Russian serf: totally broken and humiliated. Suddenly we heard the news: they were getting married; her parents having given legal permission – she was not yet 16. This romantic story ended rather tragically, five years and three children into their marriage; her husband crashed his car and was killed. She was an indigent widow at twenty. Sadly, fairy tales fueled by materialism, do not always have a happy conclusion.
We could quit school after Grade Ten, the allure of the “big money” to be made in the forest industry or in the fishing business was just too tempting for many. Once they left school, we mostly lost touch with our former classmates. They quickly moved into the adult world of bulging muscles and excessive drinking. At this time in Canada’s industrial development, you could buy a house after working for just one year. These days have been assigned to the realm of myth and fantasy, but they were a part of the affluence that occurred after World War Two in North America. I hated school and longed to join this liberated cadre of real men. Notwithstanding, the superb income, I found industrial work not that appealing. My escape was slightly more artistic; I performed in a rock and roll band. The lead singer had a voice like velvet and the good looks to match. I played the piano, quite poorly if I remember correctly. I was still respected and well thought of in our little group. I trudged through Grade Ten and was deposited into Grade Eleven.
My grades were on a precipitous fall to the bottom, failure became a very real option. One day the lead singer informed me that we were quitting school and going “on the road” to seek our fame and fortune — dancing images of elegant cars and princess-like girls filled my thoughts, only being heightened in my dreams. There was only one minor glitch; I had to inform my mother. No problem: I proceeded to inform her early one Saturday morning. “Mom, I’m quitting school!” “What,” was her rather curt reply? I repeated my previous statement with all its necessary additional vigor. My mother is a very calm, lovely woman. But I had obviously underestimated her response. She began to literally wail. This continued for ten very long and painful minutes. This space of time seemed to be endless. In the interim, I decided that I might as well finish my school and mitigate her agony. I, subsequently, finished Grade Twelve and eventually, finding my way, many years of university. My friend, the lead singer, was not so fortunate. He did go on the road, but succumbed to drugs and alcohol at the age of forty-one, never having achieved success. I was always thankful for my mother’s rather visceral response to my statement. It certainly altered my life and greatly augmented the overall happiness that I feel today. The great statesman and writer, Winston Churchill (3) leaves us with a thought. You will make all kinds of mistakes, but as long as you are generous and true and also fierce you cannot hurt the world or even seriously distress her. She was meant to be wooed and won by youth. (Parts of this essay were originally published in 2005)
A closing thought: It is necessary to experiment when we are young. How else will we learn and grow? Unfortunately, some do not realize when to place limitations on their inquiries and suffer irreversible damage to their body and soul. The secret is to know when to arrête these forays on the “wild side,” and mature into a thoughtful and caring human being – and “get on” with life.
To sum up: This week we spoke about the adventures of youth.
To be noted: from Oprah Winfrey (4) — The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams.
Just for fun: Alison Balsom
For reflection: WW1 -touching moments on the Battlefield
This week on your pensive stroll, please reflect on your lessons of youth.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful
Quote: Everything must have its time to blossom into understanding.
Footnotes:
1) Canada’s High School Dropout Rates Are Staggeringly High, According To Studies
2) Aphrodite