When I was in high school, popular punk rock band Bowling to Soup belted an anthem with lyrics that could not have rung more true to me — a humorous declaration that long after graduation, “High School Never Ends,” and the horrors of those terrible teenage years would never die.

I’ll be honest. When I volunteered to help plan my 10-year high school reunion several months ago, I kicked myself. Like 97 percent of the population, I did not exactly peak in high school. I was the bookish, awkward teenager involved in just about every extra curricular activity there was, mostly because I could never quite figure out where I belonged. And let me tell you, the number of clubs I was involved in had no correlation to my social skills, which were virtually nonexistent (but not for lack of trying!).

So this weekend, as an impressive number of graduates from Brandywine’s Class of 2009 gathered at Fifty5 in downtown Niles, I was overcome with emotions. After all, in spite of the fact that I now live less than six miles from the house I grew up in, it has been a decade since I’ve been in the same room as more than five of my classmates at once.

These were people I have known the majority of my life — from a period where I was better known as “Ambi” than by my full name.

These people not only witnessed some of my most embarrassing moments to date, but experienced them right along with me. They saw me through bad haircuts and terrible bouts of puppy love, witnessed my stutter whenever I had to speak in public and often teased me for my neurotic perfectionism.

To say I was nervous to attend my 10-year reunion is an understatement, but it was a feat I was willing to conquer to see some old friends.    

As people from every crowd in high school filled the event venue, I reverted to my teenage persona as the quiet observer. I saw the class clown and the smart kids, the theater buff and the homecoming queen — all also shifting back into their former roles.

Bowling for Soup sang loudly in my head: “High school never ends.”

As shy, teenage “Ambi” began to morph back into grown up, confident “Ambrosia,” I realized that the old cliche is true: Some people never change — but I also realized that with time and experience, we tend to find our places in the world.

Ten years after graduating, the class clown uses his good sense of humor to put patients at ease as a registered nurse.

The homecoming queen used her impeccable social skills to rally the troops and lead the planning of the successful event.

The smart kids grew up to be engineers in big cities. That girl voted most likely to become president (also known as my twin) uses her leadership skills as a professor at our alma mater.

And the theater buff? She grew up to be a TV star. That’s right. I once performed musicals on the Brandywine Elementary School stage with world famous WWE star Ruby Riott. I know her as my childhood friend, Dori Prange.

As we reminisced over memories that seemed like long ago and like yesterday at the same time, I realized that the catchy lyric was in fact true, but not for the same reasons I had anticipated.

Surrounded by people we spent our formative years with, it was like no time had passed at all.

As adults with mortgages, spouses, babies and careers developed in the decade that had passed, we laughed and enjoyed each other’s company just like it was 2009.

I realized in a lot of ways, high school never ends.