Yes, Virginia, there is life after high school - Sensitive kids of all stripes could benefit from a sneak preview of adulthood

Yes, Virginia, there is life after high school - Sensitive kids of all stripes could benefit from a sneak preview of adulthood
By Bonnie Miller Rubin
Copyright © 2010, Chicago Tribune
8:36 p.m. CDT, October 18, 2010
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/ct-talk-rubin-gets-better-1019-20101018-27,0,2900641.story



In the wake of the recent flurry of suicides by gay teens, writer Dan Savage recently launched a wildly successful campaign called "It Gets Better."

The project invited gay adults to share their tales of torment — and, ultimately, triumph — with kids on YouTube. In the last month, more than 1,000 people have submitted their stories and some, Savage said, have brought him to tears.

The video testimonials have touched a nerve across America. The contributors are both nameless and notable, such as "Project Runway" host Tim Gunn, who tells viewers: "As a 17-year-old who was in quite a bit of despair, I attempted to kill myself. I am very happy today that that attempt was unsuccessful. It will get better."

But you don't need to have had gender or sexuality issues to recall adolescence as a time of pain and exclusion — and to wish that, long ago, someone had delivered you that same simple promise.

There are plenty of kids out there — maybe not jumping off bridges, or making headlines — for whom every day is a struggle. They get bombarded with taunts that no one likes them, that they're ugly, that they're losers. What exacerbates the despair is the enduring myth of high school as one long, effervescent party. Everyone else is piling into the car, sitting on someone's lap and heading off to a football game or posing for prom pictures, while you're stuck at home, watching "Bewitched" reruns with your parents.

Then, one day, you realize that it's one big lie — and despite outward appearances, everyone is hauling around a Hefty bag of insecurities. But that light bulb won't go on for at least another two decades, when you're long removed from the dreaded hallways and locker rooms. You'll know then that middle and high school are places where the parameters of what is acceptable — in terms of dress, hair, weight, height — are so narrow and the penalty for nonconformity is so vicious that it's a wonder anyone emerges with a shred of self-esteem.

So, for vulnerable teens, here's a sneak preview of how life gets better:

Never again will you suffer through the indignity of getting selected last for a team.

Who can forget standing before your peers while team captains choose up sides, your face arranged in an expression of nonchalance while inside a voice is screaming "Pickmepickmepickme"? In the workplace, others may get promoted and you may get passed over — but at least the process won't require everyone lining up in the company parking lot.

No one will ever ask your ACT or SAT scores.

High school is defined by ranking, sorting and stacking — and, for a brief period of life, where you stand in relation to everyone else is of paramount importance. Then — poof — it's over. Done. Rarely again will such arbitrary criteria be used to predict your life trajectory, unless you are in sales. And even when they figure in, you will have other accomplishments — that you are a good parent or friend, that you make a mean apple pie, refinish furniture or grow orchids — that will help balance the picture.

Your mode of transportation will be irrelevant.

Right now, you may be dying because Mom or Dad drops you off at school, usually in full view of everyone in the Western Hemisphere. Or you are stuck riding the bus — a one-way ticket to geekdom for everyone but freshmen. There may be some places where wheels still count, but for most grown-ups, how you get somewhere is a nonissue. You can be wearing spandex, a helmet, flying by on in-line skates or riding an old Schwinn, and it won't raise an eyebrow.

You will welcome solitude.

Recently, a very poised woman I know confessed that she skipped lunch for most of her sophomore year after being inexplicably ostracized from her cafeteria table. Better to hide out in the bathroom, she recalled ruefully, than risk the public humiliation of eating solo.

In time, you will appreciate the quiet. Whether it's a corner booth and a good book, an open road or a Saturday night at home, you will feel downright giddy at the prospect of time to yourself — especially after working a 60-hour week (which just about everyone is these days). As for shopping in packs? That will fade even more quickly — particularly when trying on swimsuits under fluorescent lights.

No one is paying attention to your minor screw-ups.

Right now you feel that your every move and utterance is under a microscope. But very soon, everyone will be too busy worrying about paying the mortgage, aging parents, rebellious kids, layoffs, tanking investments and that troubling biopsy to give these incidental gestures much thought.

This insular world that you currently occupy bears little resemblance to the ragged parade of humanity. If you doubt this, spend five minutes at a shopping mall, the airport or any street corner in America. This is the real world — the one you will be graduating into — and the one you must hang on to, the one where you will find acceptance, community, love. Indeed, it does get better.

brubin@tribune.com