Stone Life

Surreal. As I drove back to my apartment late Saturday night, it occurred to me that the evening had been like something requiring a time machine. I both A.) went to Prom, and B.) went to a Black Crowes concert. Throw in some Boone's Farm and some hormone-induced-angst (I liked to imagine myself brooding and mysterious...I was neither), and I might very well be seventeen again.

Not much to say about the Crowes. I loved them in high school, and I still do. This was the first live show I had been able to attend, and they were stellar. No complaints; no long-winded explanations as to their greatness. Instead, let us focus our attention on the appetizer of the evening: Prom. I learned some things that a few years removal from the land of MTV and The Bird (you Craneite's know of which grease-pit I refer) have taught me a thing or two.

1. High School students look stupid in tuxes. It doesn't matter your build, your choice of colors, your anything - each and everyone one of you look like you are playing dress-up in your dad's clothes. Our moms convinced us that we looked something other than imbecilic, but they were either lying or blinded by motherly affection, because it is nothing more than pure comedy to see sixteen-year-olds dress up like James Bond for the evening. The girls do not quite embarrass themselves in their get-ups; maybe it is because most of them have at least some experience looking presentable. As a junior in high school, the ONLY time most guys put on anything resembling formal attire is for prom or cousin's wedding. Anything requiring more than combing one's hair is dressy, and so nights like Prom are far exceeding the bounds of a young man's abilities to maintain any level of cool.

2. Chaperone's will find a way to imbibe. Enough said.

3. You could not pay me enough to turn the clock back a decade. There are times I watch and listen to my students and I think, "If I was in their shoes, I would...." It is at those times that I think how interesting it might be to reverse time and redo some of those things I regret with the experience and wisdom of a few years' growth. Then there are an overwhelming majority of times that I see their awkwardness, their neediness, their insecurity, their drama, their inability to see beyond the nose on their face...etc, and I KNOW that it is a sign of God's grace that I cannot possibly go back there save for some future incident involving Marty McFly and Doc. Saturday, I kicked my feet up on one of the tables and watched the parade of teenagedness, and sighed a deep breath of relief that I am quickly becoming an old man.

4. I am turning quickly into the little-old-man that my students think of me as. Proof 1: I stayed out until 1 a.m., and I'm pretty sure that is the first time this semester I can say that. I felt like a rebel, like a teenager, but mostly I felt lame. Proof 2: I did not know a single eff'ing song that they were excited to dance to. I knew the 'oldies', like Edwin McCain and Bon Jovi (yeah, they still play both of those people at dances), but they might as well have been Elvis or Patsy Cline as far as the kids were concerned. Proof 3...and this is the big one: I was asked politely to move farther away from the dance floor, because the prommer's were getting uncomfortable...no joke.