School's A Bummer -- Have A Great Summer

This edition of The State of the Union originally appeared on June 6, 2003.

A few weeks back, I offered up some words of wisdom to college graduates on their way into the “real world.”  I did so in the hopes that I might help at least one of them avoid a life of unbridled misery and abject pain -- and also that maybe some misguided institution of higher education would ask me to be their commencement speaker next year.  I’ve received no requests for the latter as of yet, but of course, it’s still early.

Anyway, with that column still hot off the cyberpresses, I realized that while I had dispensed those dollops of enlightenment to the college kids, I had neglected a nation of high schoolers.  Did they not, too, need insight and guidance?  The continued popularity of Christina Aguilera indicated that they most certainly did.  Were they even less likely to actually make use of said insight and guidance than the college graduates?  Well, yeah, of course.  They’re high-school kids.  But was I about to let that stop me from sharing a few important life lessons with them?

Well, for a while I almost was.  Because, you know, “Everybody Loves Raymond” was on.  But in the end, I decided I couldn’t leave those poor little high school kids in the lurch.

But what, I asked myself, did today’s high school kids need to know?  For those graduating high school, I could try to give them some tips about college, but surely their parents are giving them all the advice they need on how to hook up with people on their freshman floor, right?

No, I decided I needed to provide something deeper, something that would help not just graduating seniors, but all high schoolers, and maybe a few middle schoolers as well.

Which is when I realized what this week’s column would be about:  Yearbook signing.

After reading those two words, you probably just groaned or smiled.  For some, a yearbook is a treasured thing, dusted off on a regular basis for a walk down memory’s locker-filled hallways.  For others, it’s a way to compensate for all the brain cells they lost in college, a cheat sheet that helps them remember who their friends were and what they did for four whole years.  For still others, it’s a reminder of a painful past, where the only joy came in those precious hours when they could gather with the few souls in that hellhole known as high school who truly understood them -- the fellow members of the Role Playing Game Club.

But whatever your yearbook ends up becoming to you down the road, the present reality of it is that when the books arrive, somebody’s going to shove theirs and a pen at you and ask that most ageless of questions:  “Will you sign my yearbook?”

Love them or hate them (yearbooks, not the people asking you to sign), most people bow to social convention and courtesy, take the pen, and scribble something.  And then, unless they’re the cruel sort that likes to cut brake wires on little kids’ bikes, they in turn ask that person to sign theirs.

Which raises the obvious question:  What do you need to know to be a good signer of yearbooks?  And then the less-obvious question, What do you need to know to be a good reader of signed yearbooks?

It is these questions I hope to answer here.

Being the researching sort, I dug out my own yearbooks, from 6th grade all the way through my senior year of high school.  I also asked a few friends for their yearbook knowledge.  And after culling through all that information, it seemed that the two things I could do that would prove most valuable to today’s youngsters were to offer up some yearbook etiquette, and help translate some of the more tricky phrases that people use when signing yearbooks.

Let’s start with the etiquette.

SIGN YOUR LAST NAME.  Sure, you may think you were best friends with Bob, or Susie, or whoever, and for all I know, maybe you were, but unless your name is breathtakingly unique, go ahead and sign your last name.  Odds are, you’re not the only Mike, Jenny, John, Amy, Justin, Sarah or Scott in the school, and signing your last name means that ten years hence, when people are looking through their yearbooks, they won’t see your note and say, “Who’s Rachel?”

(Side note:  If your name is breathtakingly unique, like, say, Gideon, then you have my blessing to just sign your first name.  In fact, if your name is Gideon, you may never have to use your last name in your entire life.  I have a friend named Gideon, and I’ve yet to have anybody stop me whilst telling a story about him and ask, “Wait, which Gideon is this?”)

DON’T AIR PETTY GRUDGES.  You may be asked to sign the yearbook of somebody who really cheesed you off just a day earlier, but trust me, in a matter of weeks, not only will you not be pissed off about whatever it was, you won’t remember it.  Wrote one so-called friend in one of my yearbooks, “Dear Eric, I flunked the Spanish test because of you.  Have a cool summer.”  Well, all I have to say to something like that is, “Me gusta limonada mucho.”

DON’T READ UNTIL YOU’VE WRITTEN.  When you are tempted to read what a friend has written in your yearbook, resist!  Reading what a friend has written to you before you’ve written to him is just courting trouble.  For instance, if your friend Johnny writes a novella on the endleaves of your yearbook, and you read it before you write in his, you’re going to feel compelled to match his output, or even surpass it, and besides the obvious pressure this will induce, you may say something you’ll later regret, just to pad word count.  On the flip side, if you think your friend Johnny ought to write you a novella, and he ends up just writing, “Duuuuude, it’s been real.  Have a great summer,” you might not only cheat him out of the heartfelt novella you yourself were planning to write to him, but you might take out your anger and disappointment in your signing and say something you’ll later regret.  A quick reminder:  while this bloated column is already 1,065 words, the Gettysburg Address was only 267 words, and it was pretty effective in getting its message across, too.  In other words, brilliant, emotionally-stirring prose doesn’t have to be wordy.

BE SPECIFIC.  Who among us hasn’t dropped a “You’re the best!” at one point or another?  Not me, I can assure you.  But while this compliment is kind, when signing yearbooks, it’s better to provide details.  Specifically, what am I the best at?  It’s one thing if you consider me the best human being you’ve met to date in your life on this earth, and quite another if you consider me the best at pretending to stay awake while really sleeping during English class.  Speaking of English class, remember that “best” is a superlative -- there can be only one.  So don’t go throwing bests around willy-nilly, okay?

BE HONEST.  Sadly, so many yearbook messages say a whole lot of nothing.  But they can be a nice opportunity to offer your classmates some constructive feedback.  For example, it’s nice to say, “I really enjoyed sitting next to you in History class this year.”  But it would be truly helpful to add, “However, I’m sure I would have enjoyed it even more if you had remembered to use deodorant every morning.”  Another valuable tip that’s perfect for any yearbook is this one:  “Perhaps you should consider getting a new hairstyle this summer.”

(Side note:  If you’re going to be honest, and you’re sharing a compliment, I encourage you not to wait until someone is graduating to pass along these kudos.  For example, it wasn’t until the last week of my senior year that I discovered that, well, not to put too fine a point on it, I had a nice butt.  As one female classmate wrote, “And speaking of behinds . . . did I tell you that yours is quite nice?  Well, around half the girls in our school agree with me, the other half . . . well, they didn’t vote for me 4 Prom Queen so there’s no accounting for taste.”  Now, if this was an isolated comment, I wouldn’t bring it up -- really, I’m not one to brag.  But there were more, including this one:  “Eric, you by far have the nicest ass in the entire school -- I really have been looking for a better one but -- there’s no use -- you have THE BEST!”  (Side note to the side note:  this is a perfect example of being specific.)  Now, I don’t exactly know what I would have done with this information had I known it any earlier -- I mean, what can you do with that information?  I’m pretty sure my high school’s dress code prohibited buttless chaps -- but I’m sure that had I known earlier that the women of my high school felt this way, I would’ve . . . well, I don’t know, I would’ve walked a little taller, you know?  Actually, I probably would’ve given myself scoliosis trying to stick my butt out, but you see what I’m getting at here -- don’t hold back on the compliments.)

And now for the translation.  Reading through those old yearbooks, I saw several phrases repeated so often they became almost meaningless.  But certainly those phrases do have meaning -- if you know how to translate them.  This guide will help you decipher the most complex of the yearbook riddles.

(Quick bonus side note, since we’re on a bit of a side-note roll here:  this translation guide works both ways.  In other words, if you want to say, “I’ve had a massive crush on you the entire year but never had the guts to ask you out” to somebody but just can’t find the words, this guide will show you how.)

HAVE A GREAT SUMMER.  At first blush, it would seem this old saw is encouraging to enjoy your summer vacation.  But what it really means is, “Have a great summer . . . because I don’t know or care about you enough to make sure that you do.”

KEEP IN TOUCH.  This seems to imply that the writer wants to stay in contact with you, either over the summer or in the future generally, but what it really means is, “Keep in touch . . . because I’m not going put forth the effort, and you know it.”

LET’S HANG OUT THIS SUMMER.  This is the kind of thing you say to someone you know you will never hang out with.  There’s no need to say this to someone you will actually hang out with; it’s understood.  Thus, this one translates as:  “You seem nice, and in an alternate world we could be close friends, but we both know we are not going to hang out.  Not even once.”

WASN’T MATH CLASS WEIRD?  I’M SO GLAD IT’S OVER, AND WE BOTH SURVIVED.  This is a particularly complicated yearbook phrase.  In some circumstances, it may mean, “I have absolutely nothing to say to you.  Were we even in math class together?  Ah, who cares, you won’t remember in five years.”  It could also mean, “I hate you so much that if I tried putting it into words here in this yearbook, my rage would drive the pen through 15 layers of pages, so I’m just going to talk about math class.”  However, in other situations, this phrase can be taken to mean, “I’m in love with you.  I’ve always been in love with you.  Please, please, read this, then come over and kiss me passionately on the mouth.”  Like I said, this whole yearbook signing thing is tricky.  The best way to discern exact meaning of this particular phrase is through handwriting.

STAY COOL AND DON’T LET COLLEGE TURN YOU INTO A CABBAGE.  I have no idea what this means, but somebody wrote it in my senior yearbook.  Had he heard reports of people going off to college and actually being turned into cabbages?  Or was “cabbage” some obscure slang for “egg-headed nerdy boy”?  Or “raging alcoholic”?  Sadly, I’ll never know.

And here are a few more phrases that are a bit simpler to translate:

I’M GLAD WE GOT TO KNOW EACH OTHER THIS YEAR.  What’s your name again?

WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY OTHER THAN “YOU’RE THE MAN”?  I’ve never seen anybody eat burritos like you.

I’M REALLY NOT SURE WHAT TO SAY.  I’m so impossibly stoned right now, it would make your head spin.

WHAT A YEAR!  I CAN’T BELIEVE IT WENT BY SO QUICKLY.  I’m in love with you.

I THINK WE’LL NEVER FORGET MATH CLASS.  I can’t remember -- did we ever make out?