I graduated high school in 1987. It was a two-building campus with academics in one building and PE classes/facilities in another building. To get from one building to another, you had to slither across the covered sidewalk through the “smoking lounge.” The Freaks would stand in the area smoking and chatting. I remember it being a disgusting, dirty place that couldn’t be avoided. I never stopped to talk to anyone and was embarrassed that my clothes would reek of cigarette smoke just from passing through.

In 1995, I accepted my second teaching job at a high school with less than 500 students. I was 25 and taught students who were 16-18 years old. The concept of a smoking lounge transformed into a teacher’s lounge. I knew where the lounge was located but rarely had time to visit. It was the typical teacher’s lounge with vending machines, kitchenette, a couch and table with chairs. Little did I know that Chad, a senior, was a frequent flier of the lounge. “Can I get a drink?” “Yes, Chad, you may get a drink.” Chad was gone for 20 minutes. When he returned, I asked Chad, “Where did you go?” His response: “I went to the teacher’s lounge, got a Coke and talked to the teachers.” “What?” “Yeah, you didn’t ask me what I was getting to drink, or where I was going to get it.” For the next 28 years, when a student asked, “Can I get a drink?” I always replied “Of what? From where?” Then, I would follow up with The Chad Story. Interestingly enough, “get a drink” has evolved to “Can I fill my water bottle?”

In 2002, I was admitted to the stress center. I was on the cutting edge of a divorce. My anxiety and depression oozed from my pores. A therapist asked, “Do you smoke?” “No.” “Does it bother you?” “No.” “Then spend some time in the smoking lounge.” I was confused but followed directions and visited the lounge. It was an interesting place. A small group of 5-6 patients, with a dominant person who had been there the longest. I learned the “proper” way of committing suicide, what happens when you don’t succeed, how to get rid of toxic people and the best food options that were available. It was silent on the outside. People watched tv, worked on puzzles, read, and some never came out of their rooms. It was a short stay for me.

Whether it was a smoking lounge or a teacher’s lounge, it served the same purpose- a safe place for people to be themselves. There was no judgment, just support. People of authority were not welcomed. However, there were a few commoners that were black balled for being a mole. I would camouflage myself within the environment and listen. I became wiser by visiting the lounges.