This time 50 years ago, I was beginning my senior year of High School.

Ah, high school. That magical four-year stretch where hormones rage, cafeteria food defies science, and algebra ruins lives. But not all high schools are created equal—especially when separated by half a century. Let’s hop into our metaphorical DeLorean and compare high school in 1975 with its futuristic cousin in 2025.

In 1975, high school was a land of corded phones, disco balls, and chalk dust. Students roamed the halls in polyester glory, wielding Trapper Keepers and feathered hairlike weapons of mass distraction. The biggest tech innovation? Overhead projectors that required a PhD in transparency sheet alignment.
Teachers wrote on chalkboards with the intensity of Shakespeare composing sonnets. If you missed a class, you begged a friend for notes, which were handwritten in cursive so elaborate it could double as a ransom letter. Research papers involved actual books, and the Dewey Decimal System was your GPS.

Lunch was a mystery meat roulette. You didn’t ask questions. You just prayed it wasn’t Salisbury steak again. Gym class was a Darwinian experiment involving dodgeballs the size of beach balls and zero regard for dental safety.

Social life revolved around passing notes—actual paper notes—folded into origami triangles and delivered with the stealth of Cold War spies. If you wanted to ask someone out, you had to do it face-to-face, risking rejection and acne exposure simultaneously.

Fast forward to 2025, where high school resembles a tech startup with lockers. Students glide through hallways wearing smartwatches that track their hydration, mood, and whether they’ve blinked enough today. The dress code? A mix of athleisure, LED accessories, and whatever TikTok said was cool last week.

Teachers now wield touchscreens and AI assistants. Chalkboards are extinct, replaced by interactive whiteboards that occasionally glitch and show cat videos mid-lecture. Homework is submitted via cloud platforms, and plagiarism detection software is so advanced it can tell if you copied your own work from last semester.

Lunch menus are curated by nutritionists and include gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free, joy-free options. There’s a salad bar, a smoothie station, and a robot named “Lunchatron” that dispenses quinoa with judgmental precision.

Gym class has evolved into “Mindful Movement,” featuring yoga, breathing exercises, and virtual dodgeball—because no one wants to risk a lawsuit over a bruised ego. There’s a wellness room with bean bags, aromatherapy, and a counselor who speaks fluent emoji.

Social life? It’s digital. Crushes are confessed via encrypted Snapchats, and drama unfolds in group chats with names like “TeaSpillers2025.” Asking someone out involves sending a meme, a GIF, and a poll to gauge interest.

So, which era wins? In 1975, high school was raw, analog, and gloriously awkward. In 2025, it’s sleek, sanitized, and algorithmically optimized. But one thing remains constant: teenagers still think adults don’t understand them, cafeteria food still tastes suspicious, and nobody knows what the mitochondria actually does.

Or as the writer of Ecclesiastes said, “There is nothing new under the sun.”