The reign is over. After six long years, the legacy of the name “Batten’s Daughter” has perished. I am no longer going to be the trustee given combinations, sub plans, cell phone numbers, passwords or information for others to use at their discretion. I am no longer going to be that girl who knows all the dates, times and locations for every school event. I am no longer going to be called “Batten’s Daughter” because finally, the caboose of the line of Batten sisters is leaving. I reminisce about my four years at Palmetto and laugh because I honestly have no idea how I survived high school being my father’s child.
Shorts to school? Completely out of the question. My father’s opinion on shorts is one of a man’s from the Victorian Era. Sorry that I have extremely long legs and I look like a fool wearing shorts that surpass my fingertips. When I try to tell him that everyone wears shorts to school, I somehow never seem to win the uniform battle.
“That dress is too short. Those heels are too tall. That material is too see-through.” Homecoming season is more of a hassle than an enjoyment. After conquering the obstacle of clothing, I run into the dance itself. I constantly feel the eyes of Dr. Harley, Ms. Dobbs, and my dad watching my every move…or lack thereof because all I feel like doing is just standing there and smiling like a rare animal at the zoo. Even after camouflaging myself in the mosh pit of sweaty students bouncing up and down, I make sure to maintain a 12 inch distance from anyone of the opposite sex, just to avoid the “Who was that boy?” conversation later. I can’t complain though, having my daddy drive me to Homecoming junior year is really one for the memories.
Because my father is an administrator, I need to make amazing grades to maintain his respected reputation, right? Well, I try. People tend to think my dad threatens and emails teachers in order for them to give me good grades, but in reality, my parents have never emailed a single teacher of mine regarding my grades. Just ask my dad what classes I am taking this year and you will be answered with a blank stare. He has more important things to worry about, like making the glass at our school shatterproof.
I have a secret to reveal. All of my life, I have carried around a diary and a small camera to document every illegal thing my peers have done at parties. When I come home, I show my dad all of my footage just to get everyone in trouble at school the following week. How else would people get in trouble if it weren’t for my intel? Its not like people get caught by security guards or filmed on the school cameras; nope, it’s secretly been me the whole time.
Besides people not knowing my name or teachers using me constantly to run errands, high school under my father’s watch wasn’t all that bad. I was lucky enough to play volleyball for four years with my dad as my number one fan. I was even able to surprise my dad on Valentines Day, his birthday, and even Christmas in the comfort of his workplace. My years at Palmetto as “Batten’s Daughter” were definitely ones for laughs, but I wouldn’t have traded them for anything else.
