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College student experiences
high school for the first time

I knew that I was being addressed by the raspy male voice. "Hey, you," it commanded.

I had been walking down the hall of Madison High School when I was stopped abruptly by an orange, clanging object flying at my face. Quickly I stepped back into the hallway traffic of bustling knees, elbows and backpacks.

As my eyes focused, I realized that the noisy intrusion was a large coffee can covered in orange butcher paper. Scrawled on the front was the word "Sophomores."

"What class are you?" bellowed the voice. I cautiously lifted my gaze. Six feet 3 inches into the air I met the eyes of a stocky, African-American boy. He wore faded black jeans and a plain green T-shirt.

"Freshman," I managed to stammer. Unexpectedly, the large face before me broke into a friendly, relaxed grin.

"Hi, I'm Danny," he said. "You must be new. You'll wanna contribute to the freshman can." I smiled, quickly thanked him and walked down the hall.

Danny was the only one to introduce himself. Throughout the whole day, no one else so much as smiled my way without my solicitation of conversation. The students around me either skittered down the hall like anxious, uncovered insects or shuffeled indifferently.

I must have looked like them. I felt like I blended in well; the students easily accepted me into their conversations. After I introduced myself, of course.

I fit in so well that I landed myself a date for that night's basketball game. How funny; I'm sure that there were dozens of girls who would have melted at the young man's offer. He was nice enough, but his words showed how silly his proposal actually was. He implied that a girl was not smart to go alone; I'd "be safer" if I accepted his offer to go with him.

I was new, I told them. I was from a small town called Selah in central Washington. Yes, I answered, I ride horses. Yes, I liked Portland so far. Then it was my chance to ask my questions. I had many.

What the students did not know was that I was most recently from Multnomah Bible College. I had told Danny that I was a freshman. In part, that was the truth--a freshman in college. I had not been in a high school situation for more than two years.

I found these teens loud, scantily dressed and a great deal bolder in attitude than I remembered. At the risk of sounding "old fashioned," I was frightened of the students. They were vain, rude and inconsiderate.

One student tripped in the hallway, and to my surprise, no one stopped to help. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a foot slip out in front of him. The "accident" looked intentional to me.

Segregation was obvious. Students stood in clumps, every so often sending fleeting glances my way or to one of the others in various isolated groups.

The girls' bathroom had the feel of a dark ally at night. A single frosted window let in annoyingly pale light. Trash lay in the corners and spilled out into the hall. I don't remember high school feeling like this!

Selah is small, but home is smaller. When my brother and I decided to school at home, we were enrolled in a Christian correspondence course.

For the most part, we spent our days at the kitchen table. What an unimaginable difference Madison was for me.

I saw angry, bitter and frustrated students simply giving up. One girl in the front row of a history class stood up and said, " I can't take this anymore." As she marched out of class, I heard her say, "I'm outta here." The teacher and students seemed unfazed, and continued class as though that sort of thing happens every day. Some teachers spoke to their students using slang and open threats. "Are you dissin' me?" yelled one teacher.

In a class of 42 students, I counted four who were sleeping during a film. Two were reading; most were talking. I saw that no one was paying attention, including me. In fact, even the teacher was napping. She was leaning on her desk, arms propping her up, eyes closed and her mouth hanging open.

After the bell rang, I decided to walk the halls for an hour rather than attend another class. As the corridor began to empty, I saw two girls standing close, casting me quizzical looks. Rather than ignore their glares, I walked up and introduced myself. As their jaws dropped, I felt safe to ask, "Why aren't you in class? Is there something more interesting going on?"

They turned to each other and exchanged raised eyebrows and shoulder shrugs, then motioned for me to follow them. As we walked down the hall, I learned the names of the girls I'd be skipping class with.

Della and Katie were bored. As we loafed down the staircase, we met another tardy group of seniors--Sean, Izzy and Stephanie--who were casually waiting around. "What's the plan?" asked one of the boys. After a few minutes of discussion, the group decided to try getting in to the "SBO."

I found out that the "SBO" is the student body office. We had to sneak past the hired hall monitors, through the cafeteria and into a back room that served as an office, janitor's closet and storage area. Once there, we lounged for awhile, listening to music and discussing food, friends and "fun things to do on Saturday nights."

My day at Madison High School is an experience I won't soon forget. I met new people, skipped class, got lost and forgot where I parked my car.

Other than that, I think I had a pretty normal day.