Things I Wish I Knew in This 9th Grade Junior High Panoramic Picture…
With school starting in my neighborhood this past week, I took a walk down memory lane with my junior high panoramic class photo—you know, the kind where the whole class is lined up in rows on bleachers, windblown hair and awkward expressions preserved forever in a rolled-up print.
There I was: skinny, uncertain, trying to tame curly hair with a blow dryer, and quietly wondering if anyone else was as unsure of themselves as I was. Turns out, a lot of us were. But that’s not what you think about when you’re 14 years old and caught in the great social mysteries of junior high.
Looking back, I wish I could tap that kid on the shoulder—awkward posture and all—and tell him a few things. Things that don’t show up on a report card but matter a whole lot more.
So here it is—a letter of sorts, a list of lessons I wish I had known back when that panoramic picture was snapped:
Success in dodgeball does not equal success in life.
Curly hair is not so bad. Stop blow-drying it and just go with it.
Take your allowance and buy Apple stock.
Richardson High School will be amazing. Just hold on.
Be kind and give grace.
Always be the guy to offer to run to the cafeteria to buy Coach Dockins two BBQ sandwiches, and that way you get out of running.
VHS will beat out Beta.
The two-story Taco Bueno at Belt Line and Coit will eventually be gone—so eat there as often as possible.
Never get rid of your vinyl albums and replace them with cassettes.
Seriously consider writing a seven-book series about a boy wizard with a lightning scar. Trust me on this.
Nearly 50 years from now, some of these people will be some of your greatest friends.
Mr. Stephens calls all of you maggots because he is incredibly insecure.
Even though Holly Bell looks like she’s in college, you can still say “hello” to her and not go silent in her presence.
Smile more.
Darth Vader really is Luke’s father. (Spoiler alert.)
Your future wife is in sixth grade just down the road at Bowie Elementary. Be kind to all future Pearce Mustangs.
Disco won’t last forever.
God has a plan—and He can be trusted.
Looking at that photo now, I don’t just see a moment frozen in time. I see how far God’s grace has carried me since then. Through the awkward stages, the missteps, the lessons I never saw coming. And I’m reminded again—He was there in that picture too, quietly walking beside me, knowing all along what I would eventually discover:
That I was never alone. And I never had to be perfect. I just had to keep walking.