So, I’m back at home. Trying to write. Writing. Catching up on some sleep and relaxation. And I don’t know why I’m compelled to write about being at home, but I am.
You see, I spent my high school years plotting my escape. Our guidance counselor told us not to worry about college: it was too expensive, took too long, and didn’t prepare you for any kind of job we could get. I went anyway. So did most of my friends. Because the only thing to do in town was leave.
Although not surprised, I was saddened to find out that my high school has the highest per capita drop-out rate in the state of Washington. We’re a pretty small town with two relatively small high schools. My alma mater is one of the 22 drop-out “factories” in the state. 40% of freshmen don’t graduate. This is not good.
I shouldn’t be lucky to have gotten out. But I am. And that is what I can never communicate to the majority of my students in the Ivy League. It makes me sad. That’s all.
