I was Goody Two Shoes.

I got straight A’s.
I followed all the rules.
And I never got into any trouble.

“The last of the sweet and innocent,”
the high-school yearbook dubbed me.

That was in 7th grade, but by 9th, my goody two shoes fell out of vogue.

My best friends started resenting me.
The “cool” cliques rejected me (—too “square.”)
And I stopped getting invited to things.

So I rejected them all and left for an elite and “academically rigorous” prep school. (Exeter)

I made it known I felt too “good” for my local high school, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

But in the 11th grade, I got kicked out of that elite prep school.

(Drinking.)

(Vodka.)

I didn’t think my parents would ever forgive me.

They feared every college would reject me.

I had to move back home, put my tail between my legs, and return to the local high school.

That sucked.

But eventually, things got better and I found my groove. My 12th grade saw some of the best memories of my life, and somehow, some way, I got into Harvard.

I must have been feeling a little rebellious again, though:

This was my high-school yearbook quote:

“She drank from a glass that said ‘DRINK ME,’
and up she grew so tall.
She ate from a plate that said ‘TASTE ME,’
and down she shrank so small.
And so she changed, while other folks
never tried nothin’ at all.”

—Shel Silverstein

Today, I find it uncanny how wildly accurate the poem describes much of my adult life, too:

The straight-A-rule follower.
The irreverent rebel.
The redeemed.

Perhaps a bit of all 3.

And that’s the end of today’s rambling reflection.

And you?

Won’t you share a little something, too?

I love getting to know everyone in my community.

What’s something about you that’s quirky, unexpected, or otherwise representative of you?

💌 Amanda