Mind you, just some of that time. Not all of it.
I don't know about you, but high school was not the best time of my life. No, it was far from a great experience for me, which is one reason (besides cost) which I have never attended any of my high school reunion. I did go to one of my spouse's (we didn't know each other until college) reunions and it was - interesting.
Nor, did my high school alumni association know where I was until my sister in law
I ignore the mailings.
I hated high school English. This may be a surprise to you. After all, am I not an avid reader and blogger? (I'm saying avid. Not "grammar geek" or technical expert.) I love to read, yes. I taught myself to read (so did my sister in law) at the age of four, and I'm surprised I didn't wear out my New York Public Library card.
I was possibly one of the best customers of the bookmobile that stopped every Thursday afternoon (except during the summer) at my NYC housing project.
But I hated English class for so many reasons.
1. I am a poor speller. Always have been. And what do they do in English class, but continuously give students spelling quizzes? (at least, they did in the 1960's).
2. I was too shy to participate in class discussions. More points off.
3. Grammar drove me crazy.
4. But last, and certainly not least, was the Required Reading List. And the dreaded Book Discussions. And what books I had to read. Books I never would have touched with a 39 1/2 foot pole in my non school life suddenly became steep mountains to climb. The discussions were torture. The last thing I wanted to do was dissect books.
I just wanted to read them and experience them and be lost in them, not analyze them.
So sometimes (true confessions) I would hide in the back and read a book I was interested in.
The online book review I read was a review of one of those books I had to dissect in high school.
Flashback. And you know what? I realized - I may actually want to reread some of those books.
Some of them, in fact, I can barely remember.
Of Mice and Men. The Great Gatsby. The Red Badge of Courage.
Maybe a teenaged me couldn't experience them without a bunch of eye rolling. But the 62 year old me might be able to.
Maybe, for some of these books, I needed maturity. Or seasoning. Or more experience in life.
My tastes have changed. I once hated feta cheese. Now, it's my favorite. I hated gin the first time I tasted it, and never tasted it again, until recently. I liked it. (Of course, it was probably a much more expensive gin than whatever I tasted when I was a young adult.)
I don't know if I will do this literature rerun thing, but it is tempting. I still won't dissect those books, though. I still want to read them and experience them and be lost in them. When they end, I want to hurt with the ache of being ejected from a world I didn't want to leave. I want the voice of the author to stay with me and keep me company, and speak to me from hidden corners.
Did you hate high school or equivalent?