Back to school

When some loud braggart tries to put me down

And says his school is great
I tell him right away
"Now what's the matter buddy
Ain't you heard of my school
It's number one in the state"

So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school
        -- Beach Boys, 1963

Top-ten-list: major differences between life in a retirement facility and life in high school.

1. In the retirement facility, everyone is a senior

As I’ve traveled these 13,000 miles and had a chance to observe thousands of senior citizens in dozens of retirement facilities, I’ve been surprised by several similarities between the culture in such buildings and what I recall from high school.

Now, I’m not saying that moving into senior housing is just like enrolling at Rydell High – far from it. But there are some very interesting comparisons…

For example, there are lots of cliques in both settings.

I remember high school cliques included the “soshes” (socially advanced – at least from their own viewpoint), the “surfers” (it was Southern California, need I say more?) and the “brains” (not exactly the most highly regarded; but perhaps with the greatest potential).

Plenty of sub-cliques existed: politicians, musicians, Rot-See (Reserve Officers Training Corps), athletes, and a host of official and unofficial clubs and organizations.

Cliques in retirement facilities may include pet owners, card players, newspaper readers, puzzle-solvers, walkers (one distinct group that literally “walks” – usually counterclockwise around the building; and another that actually uses devices called “walkers” to aid mobility), shoppers, medical experts (these folks discuss various maladies endlessly) and more.

It’s really just human nature, I guess. People are motivated by a lot of different things and tend to gather in groups with similar motivations (or interests).

Student life in high school is structured around curricular and extra-curricular activities. Many clubs and organizations – some which offer credit toward graduation – are available. Nonetheless, many students just stick with going to class and spend little extra time on campus. This may actually be the majority of students – a silent, nearly invisible group of young people who aren’t caught up in school activities.

Life in a retirement facility tends to rotate around the meals. Though some residents eat in their rooms, most congregate in the dining room two or three times daily. The rhythm of each day is set by mealtimes.

Though no bells are rung, residents filing down hallways for meals are a bit like students moving from class to class. Meals are the only time to observe a majority of the residents in the same place.

When I enter a dining room for the first time, many pairs of eyes are cast upon me. At first, I found this to be rather disconcerting; now, I realize that it’s just part of human nature. I’m intruding on their territory and any newcomer must be examined and categorized.

By the end of that first meal, about half of the residents have learned something about me – often something that’s untrue. I’m often mistaken for a representative of the corporation – visiting from headquarters for some reason or another. And many folks conclude that I must be the son of someone sitting with me at that first meal.

Because many seniors have trouble hearing, others have learned to speak rather loudly during meals. So, it’s not unusual for me to overhear conversations two or three tables away from where I’m sitting. Occasionally, I’ll walk over, introduce myself and disabuse folks of false information I’ve overheard.

I believe I can make fairly accurate judgments about some folks simply based on where they are sitting and how they react to the rest of the room.

There are always a few residents whose eyes are constantly in motion. When they spot a particular neighbor, they’ll note to their tablemates that, “so-and-so is back from the hospital” or “I thought such-and-such was taking the bus ride today.”

I well remember these characters from high school. They always knew who was dating whom and definitely wanted to be the one to tell others when the couple broke up – or didn’t break up.

There are often volunteers among the residents. Sometimes these “helpers” are actually minor tyrants, wielding their unpaid duties like weapons. A woman put in charge of the remote control at a movie screening ran the room like a dictator, imposing rules and making decisions about lighting and seating as if she owned the place.

Volunteers who agree to change the menus that are posted each day on table-tops often come around and make those changes while folks are still eating – as if the job was so vital that it justified interrupting the very meals it was intended to facilitate.

There are actually any number of residents who take it upon themselves to enforce – even to enact – rules of conduct. I’ve been challenged several times when I plug my laptop into the facility’s Internet connection:

“Do you have permission to do that?”

“No, sir. But I don’t need permission.”

“Who told you that you don’t need permission?”

“Nobody needed to tell me. I know that all of the amenities in this building are here for the benefit of residents; and as a guest, I enjoy the same rights as any other resident.”

“Well, you should have asked permission.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Should I disconnect my computer?"

“No, I guess you might as well finish what you’re doing."

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

(Sorry. I got started with that dialogue and just had to see it through. It’s just so … so … well, so HIGH SCHOOL!)

Well, honky-tonk baby get on the floor
All the cats are yellin they're shoutin’ for more
My baby likes to rock, my baby likes to roll
My baby does the chicken and she does the stroll

Well sock-hop baby
Roll up her crazy jeans
Gonna rock to the music
gonna dig the scene
Shimmy to the left
Cha-cha to the right
We're gonna do the stomp till broad daylight

Well shake it
Yeah shake it
Yeah shake it
Everybody shake it
Shake it at the high school hop
        -- “Grease,” 1972