High school isn't really known for being an ever-flowing fountain of fond memories. The ones you do have are probably about your friends, or boyfriends or prom, or...something. My high school had all those things (for the other kids, I think) but my happy memories are these: one special teacher and the beauty of the place itself.
I hated high school, but I loved the buildings. Twelve years later, it's the thing I remember most fondly about Cranbrook. I'll never go to a reunion, or send in my life updates to the quarterly alumni magazine. And there are few people I keep up with, aside from surface-level glances on Facebook. But on the rare occasions I go back to Detroit and have some time, I like to see the place.
It turns out I was spoiled by the art and the architecture. The art on campus, the art in the design, the art in the classroom. It seems funny to waste such beauty on teenagers, especially when so many of us just think of high school as a prison. I know I didn't fully appreciate it at the time. But maybe the point is that it does sink in over time. Because sometimes I actually wish I'd been in a little less of a hurry to leave.