Uggh.

Towards the end of my high school senior year, I became an asshole. I treated my parents terribly, I lost some good friends, and I showed a significant amount of disrespect towards my teachers. Unfortunately, I was the only one who failed to realize my newfound identity. I thought I was being funny. Being a scrawny kid throughout high school, I felt I could get away with a meaner attitude: “It’s ok—I can say awful things about people because I’m short and skinny. Get it? It’s all a joke! It’s funny! I’m funny” Well, I took it too far– numerous times.

I served as the co-head for Enriching Lives Through Service (ELS), a student-run organization that pairs mainstream students with special education students during the school day and for after-school activities. I loved volunteering in the classroom, coaching the students during Special Olympics, and attending special events like the Valentine’s Day dance. Plus, I happened to be a good volunteer whom the kids liked and the teachers respected. Additionally, many parents liked me because very few teenage boys participated in this program. I became known as the “nice guy.” As my nice guy-ego grew bigger approaching the final months of my senior year, I became a pain in the ass to work with. I became flakey and could not be depended on to attend events and sports practices. During a before-school club meeting, I once dismissively described all the sophomore and junior female volunteers as, “all looking the same.” The worst of my actions played out online—where everything becomes a part of your permanent record.

As co-head, I oversaw a board of about ten student leaders. We had a special Facebook group for all of us to share information and plan events. We created this group within the first few years of Facebook’s availability to high school students, so we were all new to this form of communication. In the leading days to one of our big events, we conversed online to finalize the logistics of the event and delegated responsibilities accordingly. I cannot recall the precise wording, but I said something along the lines of: “I’ll let you subordinates take care of this barbecue.” I truly hope that is what it was instead of what I fear I wrote: “I’ll let you bitches take care of this barbecue.” As expected, my condescending language did not go over well with my fellow board members.

The next day I got called into the dean’s office to discuss this matter. I was not the type of person who regularly found himself in the dean’s office. I served as my high school’s student government president, so I usually met with school administrators to talk about student government related issues. I was shocked to be there and still upset that the individual anonymously reported me. Nevertheless, after a brief chat, the dean assigned me to attend the next session of Saturday detention. The most humbling part was explaining to my advisors, teachers, and fellow student leaders what I had done and apologizing to each of them individually.

I had become an insensitive person. But I do not believe I would have said such an awful thing to the group during an in-person meeting. While it was not an anonymous post, the Facebook group was removed enough from the real world enough that I felt free enough to use such an inappropriate term. Moreover, the online forum prevented me from showing facial expressions or using a sarcastic tone—not that it would have mattered anyway. Communicating through Facebook had brought out the worst in me and served as concrete evidence that I had become a person that I did not like.

I recently shared this story with a friend of mine. He asked me if I meant what I said to the ELS board members. Was I being brutally honest? Or was this a joke taken the wrong way? I continue to consider this incident as one exhibiting terrible miscommunication and a lack of judgment on my end. Sure, the titles indicated that they were my subordinates– and I made that quite clear to them in the Facebook post– but I never treated them that way during our meetings. I viewed the other students on the board as my co-workers and friends. If I could go back in time, I would have never said anything.

Since this incident, I have shed my “douche” persona maturing into a far more sensitive and empathetic person. I have had my occasional hiccups along the way, yet I find them to reach nowhere near the intensity of the incidents that occurred during the waning months of my high school years. I look back on some of my texts, Gchat conversations, and Facebook posts and shake my head with shame. What, precisely, was I thinking? Why did I think it was appropriate to text a female friend at 1AM with: “Hey you! What are you up to?” Or who said it was acceptable to take photos of friends hooking up at the bar and post it on Facebook. Sure, I am a goofy person who likes to have fun and joke around with people. The mismatch between my online and in-person personas landed me in a serious of unfortunate situations yet taught me much needed lessons.

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