High School Harmony

Roshaunda, circa 1990 Photo Credit: Joan Cooper
Roshaunda, circa 1990 Photo Credit: Joan Cooper

That’s me in high school.  I have to acknowledge I now realize where TG gets her wicked side-eye, but I won’t dwell on that.  I do, however, want to apologize to my parents for giving them that face at least enough times that my mom decided to take a picture of it to memorialize the expression she undoubtedly saw more frequently than she desired.

While I’m giving apologies to my parents, I must also beg their forgiveness for the 11th and 12th grades.  There are too many reasons to enumerate here, so I’ll focus on one.  Singing.  Loudly.  I love to sing, and while I was in high school (which for me was only 11th and 12th grades, because 9th and 10th grades were mid-high – weird, I know), I would crank up my CDs and blow for hours.  And then I would play my clarinet for hours.  And if I was still feeling musical, which I often was, then I would play my keyboard, but not for hours (I didn’t love it as much as singing and my clarinet).  I can only imagine they groaned at the racket I created and were glad I was upstairs by myself.  It’s interesting that my short-lived singing career began when my brother moved out and ended when I did.  And in my defense, I actually know my mom liked to listen to me play my clarinet and keyboard.  At least that’s what she told me, and I’m holding onto that.

I honestly did do those things for hours.  Every single day.  And then I talked on the phone for hours.  Every single day.  You know what I don’t remember doing for hours?  Homework.  I really don’t remember doing homework ever.  I suppose I did homework, but it certainly wasn’t the all-consuming scourge my students face.  Ah, the 90s.  Life was simpler then.

And apparently life is still simple now, because I relived my high school singing days today when I pulled out many of my old CDs.  Except my En Vogue Born to Sing CD.  I tried to pull it out.  I got out the case, but it was empty.  So to whoever knows where my CD is (and I’ll admit, it could quite possibly be rolling around loose somewhere in my house), please let me know.  I’ll even grant you amnesty if you return it.  Fortunately for me, Youtube didn’t disappoint, and I listened to En Vogue to my heart’s content.  And you know what?  I still knew every single word to every single song (on the En Vogue CD and the others I listened to), so I sang at the top of my lungs.  For at least an hour, if not hours.  Perhaps I should apologize to my neighbors, as well.

I didn’t pull out my clarinet, nor did I play on my keyboard, but perhaps I’ll get back to those too.

And just for the heck of it, here’s a bonus picture from my high school chemistry class with Mrs. Teague.  I look like I was about to blow up something.  The big glasses, big goggles, big earrings, and big bangs surely could only lead to a big boom.  Or maybe I had just blown up something.  I was known for my mishaps in my science labs.  I’ll never know why Mrs. Teague didn’t throw me out.  She really should have.  Maybe that’s why I always liked her so much, because she never did.

Roshaunda, circa 1990 in chemistry class
Roshaunda, circa 1990 in chemistry class

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