School Daze - From Genius to Drop Out in 13 Years

 

Baby Polk had great hair and no clue what was coming.

  I used to be smart.
  Well, book smart anyway...not so much with the life decisions as it turns out.
  School was always easy and I never doubted that I was headed to university at some point and a life as a lawyer or perhaps teacher in my future, with a side of semi famous novelist on the side. And while those dreams persisted for many years, by the time I hit grade 11, it was evident to me and those who knew me that my attention to pursuing higher education had waned and the appearance of drugs, alcohol and bad decisions was taking a premier place in my life. It wasn't a certain event that took me from scholar to scumbag but rather an indifference to the entire process that crept in as I learned just how much effort I actually had to put in to stay ahead of the curve. Making my teachers like me was pretty easy if I behaved, turned in good work and didn't stir the pot. I was quiet, appearing attentive in class and never missing a beat, even when I hardly gave any thought to what I was doing. Their attention was always on the troubled kids, so a supposedly smart one didn't warrant any attention as long as the high marks continued and the behaviour didn't change. I should have seen it coming and maybe they should of too, but the blame falls squarely on me as I knew way earlier than anyone that I was slowly sliding into a morass of doing just enough and not caring anymore.
  The beginning was much like anyone's at school, I enjoyed going and developed an affinity for English, history, math and science very early which had me tested and labelled as advanced in my grade school years. Attempts were made to keep me stimulated with early 80's computer lab programming and skipping ahead in math to the higher grade bringing me some focus and making me work a bit for what I had. Good teachers and parents who wanted nothing but the best for me felt I wasn't ready to skip an entire grade or two, fearful for my social integration, which even then wasn't my strong suit. Looking back is easy but who knows what would have happened if someone pulled the trigger on that move. I don't think it would have made much difference as I was already manipulating the system and taking advantage of my standing as a good kid.
  Then came The Move and I found an even easier way out.
  As a new kid and part of a rather large class with established social hierarchies I fell in with the nerds and some of the kids on the perceived wrong side of the tracks at the same time. A mix-up in my transfer led to me being assigned to math classes way above where I had been and it turned me off the entire thing as I didn't want to bother anyone and struggled for the first time in my life. Instead of buckling down, I began to explore even more ways to make my life easier even as it got more complicated. I kept my grades high but the effort was falling every month, never a good trend as High school loomed.

Grade 8 Grad.
Channelling my inner Punch Imlach

  Going to a private high school for grade nine and abandoning all my new found friends and then quitting that for a local public school after one year left me grasping for some stability and that was where things really started to go off the rails. Perhaps I was searching for something I used to have or coming to the realisation that my youthful burst of intelligence was but a façade that covered up a mostly lazy kid who did just enough to get by. Either way, by Grade 11, it was clear time was up and I had to choose a path, right or wrong, light or dark and when The Party happened, away I went.

One of the few pictures in existence of me from age 17 to 19
I was like the Loch Ness Drunk

  My aptitude for learning never stopped but my ability to sit in a classroom and deal with deadlines and group work was done. I pursued several attempts at going back and even when my aunt and uncle offered to fund my first years tuition if I would enrol in University, it wasn't enough to get me to look at where I was headed.

Working nights at a gas station and hanging out with weird chicks.

 I slogged on with life, ultimately ending up here and now in this moment. Did I miss out on my true calling by abandoning higher education and pursuing my early dreams? An answer I struggle with because had I chosen a different path, I never would have met Kat, nor the other hundreds of people who helped shape the person I am today. I am sure I have made a difference to someone I've mentored or given advice to along the way and that is a comforting thought. I am not a believer in destiny or religion but I always feel like I am where I am solely because of the decisions I made and that is what it is supposed to be. We are the sum total of every choice we make up to this very moment and while shaping my life by not chasing my early promise was something I did unconsciously, it was ultimately the first in a series of things that led me here.
  My true comfort comes by being able to write and share about what I've done and that may be the best thing about what this entire endeavour into craft beer has brought me. A sense of peace with each part of my not so glorious past that I write about. It is almost like once I see the words scroll across the screen, I let go of whatever pain my mistakes caused me go into the universe, troubled by that moment no more.


Cheers.
Polk

One more Baby Polk pic because I miss that mop of hair

The Party

So many questions for this guy...

I'll be brutally honest, as always, and say that for an event that I've allowed to shape my life, I remember precious little about The Party. Lost in the mists of time and booze, many of my memories are clouded by what I've been told or think I recollect. The exact details of this life changing moment are never clear, but always there in my mind with one single word...Why?


Why did I stop caring about academics? Why did I turn my back on those who tried to help me? Why did I choose a life of struggle when I could have done so much more? Why did I reject everything I thought I wanted to be?


These are just some of the questions I ask myself when I look back and I have no answers. 43 year old me would love to help the confused 17 year old Rob to not make these errors in judgement, but I know in my heart I wouldn't listen to any reason. There are a myriad of examples of people trying to step in and help me back then and I rejected them all.


It all began on a March break in the early 90's. The family had left for a week and I was left home on my own because I was working and hadn't given my parents any reason not to trust me. I'm sure they suspected I would have a few friends over and maybe bend the rules a little, but nothing to the scope of what I did. As soon as they left, my friends descended by the dozens for a party that now seems to have stretched forever that week. Fuelled by teenage angst, I plowed through bottle after bottle of whisky, oblivious to the fact that we lived in a pretty tight neighbourhood and word of my misdeeds would no doubt get back to my parents. My nihilistic view on life at this time had plenty to do with it. I was losing interest at school, neglecting my studies with an a vengeance and not thinking of any future. I wanted nothing more than to party with my friends and be a "grown up". I put that in quotes because I had no idea what that meant, my arrogance making up for my lack of knowledge.
 I cannot tell you what happened, I see little snippets in my mind, but they are like ghosts in the works. Jack Daniels, pizza boxes and beer bottles litter the floor; a hazy smoke filled basement with hair metal blaring from the boom box and the feeling of this is how life should be linger in my memory as the week went on. I had no concept of what life really required of you, I couldn't do laundry properly or budget my money and yet I knew I was ready to take on the world. Such hubris is a common theme in much of my life since then and I struggle with those consequences to this day.
The Party itself was like a thousand other teenage parties before and after. Dumb kids get access to a place to let loose and someone has a friend who can buy them booze, mission accomplished on both points. While the exact events are not as important as what I did when my family returned, I really hope I had a good time because it was a long time before I felt happy again.
Knowing that I was deep into a whole world of hurt when Mom and Dad found out what I had done, I left before they got home. Long before cell phones, I cannot imagine their struggle to deal with what had occurred and my running away. Again, my memory is not clear on the details, but I know that I made a choice that week to throw away the plans I had been making since I was a young boy to go to university, become something bigger than myself and make a difference in the world. It wasn't a conscious decision, but it was one I made in anger, defiance and depression.
 I now know that I was struggling with anxiety and a darkness that had come down like a veil on my life. This was long before we encouraged young men that it was okay to be sad or express their feelings. You weren't supposed to show any weakness because that was a sign that you weren't man enough. I work hard today to change that not only for myself but for the young men I know.
 Part of my problem was that I was not getting the results I had in school when I was younger. Being labelled as "gifted" was a blessing at first, but as I levelled off and became part of the regular core of kids, I still yearned to be special. I imagine that if I had applied myself a little harder and worked on it, I could have achieved my lofty goals, but when the learning that came easily when I was young turned difficult, I was lost. Once again, I should have talked to someone, many people tried to talk to me, but I was building a wall that still hasn't come all the way down.
 The aftermath of that week long self indulgent, arrogant train wreck of life choice was years of wandering. I moved out and lived on friends couches for days or weeks at a time. Returning home many times, I attempted to go back to my life before, but couldn't stay straight for long. I dabbled in drugs but they never really did it for me. Alcohol was my fuel and it took many of my memories with it in its' wake. Things would be okay for a little while and then I would again begin raging against an imaginary slight and run away. This was my life for many years after and I think it is because my parents never closed the door on my return that I never truly was lost. I could cling to that happy memory and slowly I grew up...very slowly.
I eventually did finish high school, with a big assist to my Mom who made it her mission to see me graduate. I immersed myself in the local hockey association, coaching kids and walking away from the people I had partied with during those fateful years. Occasionally I would have a few beers, but it seemed I was moving away from those terrible days and had something bigger coming. But my self confidence had been shaken by my mistakes and despite an amazing offer to pay for my first years tuition from my Uncle Lyle and Aunt Cathy, I couldn't return to academia. Life was rounding into a form though and my time behind the bench seemed to be the path I needed to find to fix everything. I really thought I was bound for the NHL one day...
 This shows you how little I had learned, nothing is ever that easy and life was going to throw me a curveball once again. The next chapter of my life was both terrifying and amazing; Filled with memories that make me smile and cry, often at the same time...but that is something for another day.