Prison for the crime of puberty — that was how secondary school had seemed.

I felt very awkward as a teenager. I wanted blue eyes, I wanted to be taller, I wore glasses, I got my chest early and I was very embarrassed about it. I just wasn’t the kind of girl I thought guys would want to date. Though in some ways I was okay with that because I didn’t want to date any boys anyway. I just wanted to be friends with boys, boys were cool with me. Until we were doing a show in school where we all had to wear these catsuits for a dance routine. I walked into the room, all boobs and bum, and the boys never looked at me the same way again. I was mortified. That’s probably when I started wearing my stepfather’s shirts, big and baggy, to cover up. I just wanted to stay a kid.

Prison for the crime of puberty—that was how secondary school had seemed, when he really thought back on it.

Until you're grown-up they send you to reform school. After you're grown-up they send you to the penitentiary.

But then when you hit high school you start interacting with the patriarchy.

My intellectual achievement was retarded when I went to high school. I sort of sank into a black hole because I had to go to the high-achieving, academic public high school.

"When I went to school they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down "Happy". They told me I didn't understand the assignment and I told them they didn't understand life."

This is what happens in high school. We're exposed to what's not familiar while trying to work out who we are. We explore, make bad decisions, and learn from them. That's what high school is about: finding yourself, figuring out what makes you tick. Oh, the joys of being a complicated human.

Everybody either wanted to take care of me or push me around, you know? I was teased a lot, sure I was, of course. Fourth grade, fifth grade, sixth grade, everybody was taking their spurts except me. I was not growing up.

People like me are aware of their so-called genius at ten, eight, nine. . . . I always wondered, ``Why has nobody discovered me?'' In school, didn't they see that I'm cleverer than anybody in this school? That the teachers are stupid, too? That all they had was information that I didn't need? I got fuckin' lost in being at high school. I used to say to me auntie
``You throw my fuckin' poetry out, and you'll regret it when I'm famous, '' and she threw the bastard stuff out. I never forgave her for not treating me like a fuckin' genius or whatever I was, when I was a child. It was obvious to me. Why didn't they put me in art school? Why didn't they train me? Why would they keep forcing me to be a fuckin' cowboy like the rest of them? I was different
I was always different. Why didn't anybody notice me? A couple of teachers would notice me, encourage me to be something or other, to draw or to paint - express myself. But most of the time they were trying to beat me into being a fuckin' dentist or a teacher

I didn't take any of the social stuff at school that seriously. My main way of dealing with it was this: I was really quiet in school. I sat in the back and watched everyone and didn't say much. But for some reason, the kind of kids who care about being popular in high school are never content to let you do your own thing. As I got older, some kids still gave me a hard time about the way I dressed and the fact that I wasn't obsessed with the rodeo and country music like everyone else was. The one good thing I can say about this time is that it made me get clear on something: Either they were right or I was right. And I knew they weren't right. I knew there was a whole world out there, with all different kinds of music and people, and I knew I was going to get out of this small town someday and join it. And when I did, I was never going to look down on anyone. I was going to let everyone be who they wanted to be and not worry about it. I'd be too busy enjoying my life.

Home was the place where I was forced to conform to someone else’s image of who and what I should be. School was the place where I could forget that self and, through ideas, reinvent myself.

They spent the first three years of school getting you to pretend stuff and then the rest of it marking you down if you did the same thing.

Your teachers are always telling you [high school students] to behave like adults. I wonder if they'd like it if you did. You may be loud and disorganized, but you're very docile compared to adults.... Imagine the reaction of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being told they had to ask permission to go the bathroom, and only one person could go at a time.