This is your brain... This is your brain on Fun Dip

I was a good student – I showed up to class on time, I didn’t skip (that much), I did what I was told (most of the time) – except for when it came to homework. This is where I showed my remarkable talent for procrastination.

I have never seen a more motivated teenager to clean their room, babysit their siblings, run errands, rake leaves, walk the dog, paint the garage, cook dinner, clean toilets, or do laundry, than a teenager who had homework. Like moi.

But do you know what happens to procrastinators like me? Your journey to those credits doubles in length. Why? Because you have to do it twice. Hellooooooo night school.

Now, I have no idea why I didn’t see that I would suffer twice if I didn’t excel in school. If you don’t enjoy it during the day, you’re certainly not going to enjoy it at night or during the summer on your own time. 

The lesson here kids is, do it when you’re asked to, in actual school. You don’t need “extra” school to prove you don’t like reading Shakespeare.

And it’s not that I needed to have stellar grades, or a perfect record – I just needed to pass well enough to keep a decent average to avoid a note being sent home and parental groundings. If only I had learned my “lesson”.

I’m going to blame it on Shakespeare. Yup, my needing night school was because I wouldn’t do the reading or the homework in Mr. Koldwell’s English class. See, it's Shakespeare’s fault.

That’s right. I failed grade 11 English. And looking back on it, as an anglophone with an English teacher for a mother, it is kind of embarrassing. Just read the dang books kids. Not the Cole’s notes version – or the movie – the actual book. And because I didn’t read King Lear, or Animal Farm – I failed.

I was now strongly encouraged to sign up for night school to finish up that long-lost credit. Le sigh.
BUT I found out while attending my own pity party that one of my besties failed too! YAY NIGHT SCHOOL!

We registered together and convinced our parents to put us in the same class so we could “drive together” – you know, lessen our carbon footprint by carpooling, doing our parents a favour by only borrowing one car instead of two to go to the same place… it had nothing to do with wanting to continue our joint procrastination into the wee hours of the night ensemble.

Focus Patricia!!

Because we wanted to be in the same class, finding a school close to our home ceased to exist. Classes in our suburb had random vacancies at different times and days, but nothing available together. So, we chose to attend Gloucestershire S.S. on the other side of the city. And you know as a teenager a 40-minute drive felt like it would take three sleepless days without food or water to get there. Which of course fed into our motivation. NOT!

My dad lent me his Jeep so I could drive us to class. I picked up Tash and we made our way to the east end.

Our first class felt like the first day of school. We didn’t know the building, or where classes were. We didn’t know anyone. Everything was foreign. But we survived – however being in school for seven hours, then home for dinner and then back to class for 2.5 more hours was hard and we were tired.

What do teenagers need when their tired? Sugar.

Tash and I wanted to pass this class and get our credit, so we decided to turn night school into a ceremonial event. First, we created a mix tape of some of our favourite songs that we could crank super loud with the windows down – it had some Weird Al Yankovich, Sloan, Garbage, Ani DiFranco, Michael Jackson and Veruca Salt on it. Then, we needed road trip snacks. We would pop into Davis Grocery by Tash’s house to get the essentials like Nestea, Coke, Hot Lips, Swedish Berries and Fun Dip.

We’d drive down to Gloucestershire SS and sit in the parking lot rocking out to tunes like Dwight from The Office would to motivate himself before he’d make a sales call. We’d open our beverages and sip them slowly as we discussed what we should know before we go into class. And like teenage charcuterie, we’d chow down on our candy, and finished with Fun Dip. 

I always got the grape and orange flavour, and Tash got cherry and lime. We’d lick our sticks and share a smorgasbord of confectionary goodness waiting for the rush to hit.

For those of you who are not familiar with Fun Dip, it can be a little messy. The sugar grains can escape the pouch or fall off the candy stick and end up all over the place. Like the front seat of your dad’s Jeep.

After our ritual we went into class. This went on for 10 weeks.

On one particular night after class, my dad looked at me with his warm and caring steel blue eyes and said, “Patricia, you’re going to night school, right? And I answered quickly “Yeah Dad, why?” He put his hands on my shoulders and said “Whatever you and Tash are doing in the car that’s leaving a white powdery film on my seats needs to stop.” 

In my head I’m thinking – BUSTED – for eating in his car. I said, “I’m sorry dad, we won’t eat in the car anymore”.

“Wait, you’re only eating in the car" he replied, "it’s not drugs!?” I looked up at my dad and educated him on the glorious love of Fun Dip Tash and I had. I could see the weight of his shoulders settle as he realized his favourite eldest daughter wasn’t doing lines of cocaine in his car. He then smiled and handed me the keys to the Jeep. Off to class we went.

There are a few lessons here kids…

1. Do not do drugs, or joke about doing drugs – it just not cool (shout out to the 1987 ad This is your brain... This is your brain on drugs).
2. If your parents give you rules when using their car, follow them – you can have your own rules when you have your own car.
3. Do the work in school so you don’t have to do it twice.
4. Always have a mix tape ready for every occasion no matter how small.

Oh, and I did get that english credit. Thanks Fun Dip.

Love,
Patricia