We create these caste systems in our heads, I think. At least I do.
I went to elementary school in a district with K-8s only, no middle schools or junior highs. At ninth grade, hundreds of kids from the eight schools spread throughout the county would funnel into Watauga High School in Boone.
The hierarchy of elementary schools was thus (based entirely on my perceptions and opinions):
- Hardin Park. It was right there in the middle of Boone. Full of Appalachian State faculty’s kids, townies. They didn’t have to drive ten miles to the mall.
- Valle Crucis. They must’ve put something in the water because they raised some OH MY GOD TOTALLY CUTE boys, particularly Antoine (swoon) who played on my brother’s soccer team, the Strikers (fanning self).
- Blowing Rock. Rich-people town. The kids who went to Blowing Rock would be getting cars for their sixteenth birthdays, and not an ’83 Subaru GL station wagon that was concave on both sides and cultivating a serious case of rust, and you’ll share that with your siblings, you’re welcome.
- Parkway.
- Green Valley. Parkway and Green Valley were interchangeable. They were on the other side of the county, and I didn’t know anything about them. But they had to be better than…
- Cove Creek. That’s where I went. Ten miles west of Boone in tobacco country. The only reason Cove Creek was above numbers 7 and 8 was because we had a dope-ass gym, left over from the days when our elementary was a high school.
- Mabel.
- Bethel. Again, Mabel and Bethel were interchangeable. Both considered Total Bumfuck.
So imagine my confusion when my brother went off to WHS and promptly asked Melany Johnson, who had gone to Hardin Park, to the Homecoming dance.
I was like, whoa. Can you—I mean, can you do that?
It didn’t matter that my siblings and I were faculty brats and my mom was a—gasp!—Unitarian Universalist, so we probably had way more in common with Hardin Parkers than with the kids at Cove Creek. It still blew my little mind.
Which was then rendered FUBAR when Melany Johnson said yes.
Let me insert that, looking back, the Cove Creek kids were awesome—except the ones who told us we were going to hell because we weren’t members of Brushy Fork Baptist, they sucked—and I’m still friends with some of them today. I’m just trying to illustrate the way I created this everybody-OK–nearly-everybody-is-better-than-me paradigm.
Well, I still do that. The one I had unconsciously developed about my gym is “I can’t talk to people who are fitter than me”. Which means…everybody. Because everybody’s fitter than me.
But my caste system keeps getting wrecked because people at my gym keep commenting, and emailing, and coming up to me and saying, “I read your blog, and oh my gosh, we have so much in common!”
I love it.
Actually, the correct hierarchy was HP>(VC=BR)>Pkwy>(CC=GV)>M>B. Though if I lived there now I’d want B>(CC=M=GV=VC)>Pkwy>HP>BR.
You forgot to mention that I was so scared of what I had done that I probably never spoke to Melany again, probably even (especially even) as we danced. (His nascent mullet swayed gently to INXS’s “Never Tear Us Apart” his palms sweating through the taffeta at her waist — his mind screamed, “say something!!!!!!!” But he said nothing…)
You people are starting to scare me.
OK, Brother, I see your logic. And mos def, if I moved back, I’d be straight Bethel.
And I fucking loved that mullet.
Please tell me a photo of that beloved mullet exists somewhere. And then please post it.
for what it’s worth, I had way more fun with my CCBFF than any HP-er’s and my GV and VC kids were no slouches either!
Cat, I’ll see what I can dig up next time I go home to Boone.
Oh, Cort, I can’t imagine a better best friend for me at that time than you!
And I remember that my “adult” decision-making about where to live and send my kids to school was: HP: no walls (“open classrooms”) therefore way too noisy and undisciplined AND all those college kids putting themselves through school by selling drugs to school kids; BR: way too much money in that community to be a good influence on my children’s expectations. Pop was all for living in Tennessee on a 100-acre farm, but that was waaaaaaaay too rural for me. Bethel, Mabel, Green Valley…just a bit too far out for easy access to “culture” as in the Appalachian State University offerings. So that left Valle Crucis, Cove Creek, Parkway. We couldn’t afford the surprisingly affluent Valle Crucis, it turned out. The house in the Parkway district was “perfect”: modern, well insulated, built by a plumber so all copper pipes, right on Hwy 421 so easy access to everywhere…but the Cove Creek house had the perfect corner for the corner cupboard, so there you have it–obvious that Cove Creek was the place.
Mom, I had no idea about your thought process on this! Fascinating! If not for the corner cupboard, I might’ve been a Parkway kid. No Bryn, no Alisia, no Carla, no creek, no “Mr. Nelson”, no Swift’s hill. Whoa. My little brain hurts.
VC did have some hotties didn’t it? I was lucky to come from that one! I think your assessments were right on. Oh, and for Bruce and the rest of the soccer boys…I have to admit when my sons got into soccer…I did tell my husband that they will do just fine with the girls because the thing I remember most about WHS boys were those awesome soccer legs. :) (And swimmer abs :) )
On a side note…I was WAY PISSED to be sitting on the porch of the VC Mast Store drinking soda out of the bottles with my family on a recent vacation and overhear a conversation from nearby tourist. They were going on and on about how much they’d love to relocate to the mountains but couldn’t imagine where they’d sent their kids to school. Obviously, the schools had to be sub-par hillbilly schools. AS THEY WERE STARING DIRECTLY AT WHERE I WENT TO 7/8 GRADE!!! It took everything I had not to turn and explain that I turned out to be very happy and pretty darn successful if I do say so myself. :)
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