mercredi, août 18, 2004

i surrender all, pt. 3

I graduated high school when I was sixteen. I started the year as a junior and ended up as something else. This is what my high school diploma says:
Dayspring Academy

To all to whom these presents shall come, Greetings
(my full name is printed here)
having satisfactorily completed the required Course of Study prescribed by
Morning Glory Center for Learning Enrichment and Therapy, Inc.
of the State of Indiana for graduation
is therefore awarded this


and is entitled to all honors, rights, and privileges appertaining.
In witness whereof, this diploma is issued under the authority of the
Board of Directors and upon recommendation of the Administration at Muncie, Indiana
and is presented at Ball State University this day, May 24, 1989.

Michael J. Pierce Administrator of Education
Michael H. Parker President, Board of Directors

My high school doesn’t exist anymore. And what’s more, as a “satellite student”, I never attended it for even one day. And this fact alone makes me one incredibly fucking lucky girl. You wouldn’t believe the trouble represented by this damn diploma.

I try to look at it with a stranger’s eyes and play a silly game with it: if I could excise a word or two from its language, would that somehow change the outcome of the story? For example, to start with the light stuff, “Morning Glory Center” irritates me. It’s cheesy. ‘Stop it!’ I sternly tell the writer. ‘Have some damn dignity.” Then I weigh “Learning Enrichment” against “Therapy,” or maybe that should be “Therapy, Inc.” Both sound dumber than a box of hair, but if I could rid the world of one, could I make it a better place for people I’m crazy about?

I’d guess “Learning Enrichment” is probably the lesser of two evils- people kicked ass academically at this place. That’s a good thing. They still walk around with an almost demonic confidence based on their experiences breaking all the rules of what could be achieved in a school setting. “Therapy” or “Therapy, Inc.”, though. Sheesh. I’d cross that out. The devil’s in that detail. Where’s my red pen?