Why I Didn't go to my 10 Year High School Reunion

Nyack High School was not so unique as in there were cliques like all other high schools across America: Jocks, Brains, Weirdos, Drama Club Members, Foreigners...and a specific formula for where you fell on the social hierarchy that depending on your looks, your family/money, your looks, your talents (the more athletic the better), and your looks. Generally people in different social classes didn't commingle let alone date. The beautiful people, as I called them behind their backs and they probably openly referred to themselves, liked to remind peons like me just how unworthy I was.

Note: There are two specific exceptions I can think of, both of whom are now professional models, Erica Lawrence and Lauren Dellolio. They were kind to me, as far as I know they were kind to everyone, because despite how beautiful they were on the outside they knew it didn't give them a sense of entitlement to treat others like crap. Plus they both have really good hearts and anyone who knew/knows them would agree.

I was Josie Grosie in High School. Oily skin, chubby bordering on fat, frizzy or curly hair depending on the day, and a horrific fashion sense. I dated/commingled with people mostly 2 or 3 grades below me because to them I was somehow seen as cool. Imagine that concept. People in my grade knew better.

So Nyack High School gave me a daily dose for four years that because I wasn't spectacular in looks, sports, academics, or wealth I was a vile human being. I was bullied beyond belief both verbally and physically. Freshmen year, girls in my gym class broke into my gym locker and dragged my clothes threw the mud. And a boy in the same class filled my water bottle with toilet water. One boy in my English class emptied a completely full stapler into my hair.

Sophomore year was the year I was a fat bitch. In case one day I managed to gather a shred of self esteem, there was someone there to remind me "No, you're a fat bitch."

Junior year was when I hung out mostly with freshman. AND some of the freshman managed to bully me. Imagine the world I lived in where underclassman harassed an upperclassman. I was special alright. The happiest moment of my years at Nyack was when I was in Spain for 11 days away from all this bullshit. If you think this was exaggerated or in my head, I had several Spaniard students/host kids ask me why my classmates hated me so much. I honestly didn't know how to answer them. One popular kid from my school actually did tell me I was making in all up and she would personally invite me to parties to show me just how wrong I was. I got so excited, but Dina Gregory never did call or invite me to anything. Once again an elitist reminding me cruelly that I should know my role. And it wasn't just my peers that bullied me either. A particular Field Hockey coach, who has never cut a member from the team, almost didn't let me onto the team because I missed summer conditioning. My reason: I was helping out my religious school during a staff shortage. However he was willing to make an exception for the Ice Queen who skipped summer conditioning because she simply didn't know if she wanted to be on the team or not. Well the Coach let me on as a probationary gesture, then after weeks of busting my hump he gave me my own jersey. The next day he cut me. "Laura, you are one of the hardest working girls out here. You're always early, stay late, help out where ever needed and have a great positive attitude. But you lack talent and that's what really matters. I just don't have any room for you on the team." When I asked if I could play for the JV team because of how much I loved the game, he told me no. He also said not to even bother coming out next year. The next day he gave my jersey to a freshman. To top it off I was in his gym class all year long after that; daily reminder that even certain faculty members at Nyack didn't think I was good enough.

Senior year was the worst by far. I cut so much class that there was a possibility I wouldn't graduate. I was literally afraid to go to school. My Senior Spanish class had a brutal crew. Every time I opened my mouth they had something sharp to say about me/to me. I stayed home crying. One of the most popular beautiful girls had worked with me in summer camp the year before; a girl I had known since first grade. For the first time in years she was friendly to me. This of course was because none of her people were around to witness it. When school started back up she resorted back to her ice queen demeanor. I had to beg and plea my way into a limo for prom.

I repeatedly asked my parents for a transfer. I asked faculty members for help. Neither group of adults believed it was as bad as I made it out to be. Funny enough parents of classmates would often give me their condolences for the way I was treated.


So when I got wind that we're having a 10 year reunion, I actually consider for a moment that maybe I'll go. Maybe people have changed and grown, maybe just maybe even some of them regret what they put me through. Wrong again. I have Facebook to thank for glimpsing me into the lives of the people I once knew. Dina Gregory ignored my friend request, guess I really am NOT getting any party invites from her. Apparently there is a "Nyack High School" group on Facebook that is invite only, more than a decade later and I'm still not good enough. And the beautiful ice queen married a beautiful boy and together they have three beautiful children. When I told her just how beautiful her children were, her reply "I know."

So at eighteen when I wasn't smart, beautiful, thin, or cool enough....why would I be at twenty-eight? Why should I subject myself once again to a situation I barely survived the first time? I didn't go. The funny thing about bullies and the bullied is that the actual bullies move on from it all as if nothing ever happened while those who were bullied suffer years after the trauma. Besides reunions tend to just be a giant pissing contest over whose more successful both personally and professionally. No thanks.