Have you seen that Zac Efron movie? The dad zaps back to age seventeen and rules the school because, hello, older people are so wise and know how to do high school right: no awkward moments or embarrassments because most adults won’t fret over the same things that teenagers do. We’ve gained the knowledge to overcome that time our crush walked past us and we hid behind the lockers. We realized that the jokes those bullies made were pointless and a bit idiotic. If we went back, we’d like to assume we would overcome, just like in 17 Again.
A few times, I’ve thought about what I would do if I had the chance to go back. Would I?
If I had to live through all of high school again, I think that’s an easy answer: never ever would I go back. No, please, I’d rather gain four more years of life than relive that. But if I could relive select moments or even experience one week? I used to think that I would.
I imagined the success I would have if high school Mandy had the knowledge that Mandy in her 20s has. I’d know what bad advice not to take, and all the moments I talked too little or too much would be balanced out. People would know me, rather than knowing my teenage social quirks.
On top of all of that, I’d also have knowledge of the future of all the peeps at my school. I’d know who would stick by my side and who would stay as reliable as poster putty holding up a framed photo. There’d be no wasting time on frivolous crushes, and there’d be more investing time in strong friendships.
In all my pride and glory, I thought if I could back in time with the knowledge I have now, I would “rule the school.” Not in the sense that I would become Ms. Popular, but I believed I would become complete in my understanding and that would put me in a better state of control. I would feel on top of everything.
One day, this belief crumbled like a graham cracker sitting in milk.
I sat, waiting for a college class to begin. As a senior, I happened to have a few years on the other kids in the class; they were mostly freshmen and sophomores, with some juniors, and perhaps another senior or two hiding in there. I loved the class and the people, but in a few minutes, I had an experience that shattered my assumption about becoming seventeen again.
My seat neighbor, my go-to conversationalist before class, was absent. Feeling tired, I decided to lay back in silence until instruction started. Our class knew one another well enough that sometimes one person would start relaying a story to the twenty other people. This afternoon, that happened. There were high-pitched shouts and giddy voice and jokes and bright eyes as they discussed a date with a boy. Fun, right?
It was cute, the excitement the story teller and the story listeners felt. There were random exclamations made and increasingly raised volumes of chatting. It fit the image of young girls caught in the highs of love—even if they were just living it through another.
In my silence, however, I thought to myself: I’m too old to be here.
Increasingly, I felt distant from the college scene as of late. Perhaps others have experienced this, but I could tell my upcoming graduation came in good timing. It was time to move on. The people around me were great, but I was moving on to a different life—a different way of experiencing life.
I realized, if I felt ready to move on from college freshmen and sophomores, how on earth could I go back to high school freshmen and sophomores? If I were seventeen again, even if for a week, I’d have to spend that time with most people acting ways I no longer vibed with. Worrying about things I was no longer concerned with. I would not only feel way out of place, but eventually, I’d get fed up with constant surrounding jokes and interactions that were no longer apt for where I’m at in life.
Of course, age doesn’t determine everything. This is less about interactions with individuals and more about an interaction with an environment I have long since outgrown.
With all that said, in that moment, I realized that I no longer would want to go back. Not for a week. Perhaps not even a day. Thinking “if only I knew then what I know now” wouldn’t really help high-school-me. I wouldn’t be high-school-me if I knew what I know now. I’d be 23-year-old me. And 23-year-old me does not belong in high school.
Instead, it’s best to use what I know now for now. I’ll do my best to keep learning and growing, and enjoy life in the moment because, after all, I will never be twenty-three again.
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