You Mostly Forget - Oct 30 2026

 

You Mostly Forget

Oct 30 2026

What I learned in high school.

 That answers were either right or wrong

   —  2 + 2,

the spelling of quandary.

That girls were mysterious.

A lesson I kept;

because even all grown up

they still are.

That football hurt

worse than losing.

Which I learned to get used to

because we often did.

How to type.

Back then, on big steel machines

that clattered instead of tapped

and took up most of a desk.

Before screens.

Before IBM.

Touch-typing

on mechanical keys

you felt in your hand

   —  the thunk of the slug

on white bond paper,

the heft of the type-bar, platen, bailer.

Later on I would learn

that spelling is simply convention,

and once auto-correct is invented

mistakes aren't held against you.

That while 2 + 2, incontestably, is always 4,

right and wrong are not arithmetic;

that moral quandaries

often land in the middle

and there’s always “it depends”.

If only life could be as simple

as end of term exams.

They taught us well

but not all lessons have served.

Because no one’s hiring cornerbacks

with bad knees,

even for office work. 

Because you can’t cram and forget

  —  someone always remembers

even if you don’t.

And because life isn't multiple choice

   —  no categorical boxes,

no checking-off

either/or.

It gets complicated.

You get old.

You mostly forget.

And your high school sweetheart

while just as hard to figure 

is now perimenopausal

and a mother of two.

But still, you’re glad you can type;

who knew

it would be the only thing you learned 

of any use.

I’ve actually been saying this for years: that the only useful thing I learned in high school was how to type!

The IBM Selectric had no type-bars, just a clever little steel sphere that looked like a golf ball-sized glitter ball. It bounced and rotated at hypnotic speed, striking and inking the document with every keystroke. Before those, typewriters were fully analogue: mechanical machines that directly connected your hand to the result. There was haptic feedback. Perhaps there was a greater sense of agency.  

Now, on my iPad screen, I’m reduced to 1-finger typing! (Don't get me started on the dictation option!)

Of course, good teachers don’t just cram you with facts, which don’t have much of a half life. Rather, they teach critical thinking skills, impart a respect for nuance, and model good behaviour. Convey a love of learning. Nurture curiosity. So it’s true, the facts are gone. But I went to a good school,  and the habit of mind is still there. And there’s no discounting the critical developmental stage of life that overlaps with one’s high school career. 

(Just for the record, I was a linebacker (although not a good one), and there was at least one season our team actually won a lot (a great quarterback, nothing to do with me!); the knees are OK (so far!); and I’m quite a good speller. And it could be argued (not by me, but I’m sure by someone!) that men may be just as mysterious to women as they are to us:  it may not be gender that matters so much as the unknowability of other people in general.)