I went to see American Teen on Friday, a documentary following a bunch of high school seniors in Warsaw, Indiana. I was a leeeetle worried during the first five minutes, because there was this scripted voiceover and then a couple of shots that were obviously set-ups and felt very Laguna Beach-y, but then it loosened up and felt more genuinely documentaryish. It confirmed what I (and a lot of YA authors) always say: the experience of being in high school doesn’t ever really change. It could be 1984, it could be 2006, but the fundamental issues are the same.

 It should be reassuring for those of us who write about teens and sometimes wonder if we could be out of touch. Every single teen followed in the movie had a storyline that could have been the plot of a classic YA novel: the offbeat girl who may or may not be in love with a jock and just wants to get out of town, the queen bee who gets bit in the ass by hubris and has her own sad secret, the sports star whose hangs on coming through in a high-pressure game, the loner guy who thinks all his problems will be solved if he can find true love. All those things that can sound overdone and cliche are happing in the daily lives of real teenagers, and they will continue to happen, and that is why YA books will still connect year after year.

(Across cultures, too! I just found out that the Korean rights for both my books have sold, so look for them in your Seoul book shop in 12-24 months.)

The high school experience never really goes away. I spent two hours on the phone this afternoon catching up with a friend who had gone to my twenty-year reunion. I heard some great stories about how people were doing well, and some funny stories that could have easily taken place in the great halls of T.N. in 1987. Then I spent some quality time with my yearbooks and wished again that I could have made it to the reunion. You have to kind of laugh at who you were, and who the other people were, and the crazy ways we could hurt each other without realizing it. Or at least, without realizing the lasting impact. I did some not-so-nice things myself, it’s true. Most regretful of all, my senior quote in the last yearbook is tremendously dorky. I thanked the teachers. I said they didn’t get enough credit for all they “do for us.” Thus I am immortalized as being the lamest suck-up of all time. But then I married someone who became a teacher, so at least I’m consistent.

Enjoy your long weekend, if you’ve got one. I spent today in my PJ’s, revising and avoiding the late summer heat wave. Tonight, a storm is supposed to come in and cool everything down 30 degrees. Permanently, I hope.