Fall of 1968 was my first year of high school I had the similar trepidation of started something new but very quickly morphed into the same hated of school I had earlier. Except this time, there was the ability to cut school. Which I did often. I cut school so often that I would get a 20 for a grade. I often thought, “Why did I deserve a 20?” Since I did not attend at all, it should have been a zero. It’s amazing, I would pass a few classes, but failed enough that I was left back.
I graduated from drinking to smoking pot, popping pills, and finally dropping acid. I never made it to shooting up heroin (as some of my friends did). I was simply too revolted by the idea of putting a needle into my arm.