Much to the mortification of my teenager, I recently chaperoned a high school dance. I’m not sure why he was surprised, I’d chaperoned almost all his other social events through elementary school, and although there were fewer events in middle school, I still managed to wrangle my way in wherever I could. It wasn’t so much about keeping tabs on him as it was knowing that just about any youth type activity can benefit from another set of hands helping out in some way.

It also hasn’t been quite that long since I’ve been at a high school dance, as over the years, I’ve been asked by kids I’ve coached to show up at other dances, usually proms, to see them all decked out on what is up to that point, one of the biggest nights of their lives.

I’ve always found that one of the keys to being a good coach is showing kids that you care about more than just what happens when they’re at your practices, and getting to see my swimmers with dry hair, decked out in formal attire was a rare treat.

Back in my own high school days, I was definitely a kid that was out on the dance floor much more than I was ever on the bleachers or in the bathroom. Although previous outings as a chaperone had allowed me to participate in the fan favorites like “YMCA” and “The Electric Slide,” I was under strict orders from A that under no circumstance would I bust any type of move at any point in the evening.

Since I was also under strict orders not to indicate in any way shape or form that I knew him, and he had absolutely no plans of acknowledging my existence either, I wasn’t sure why it mattered to him if I got my groove on or not, but the rules were the rules.

Although I didn’t attend the same high school as A, I did attend dances there back in the day, and in many ways, it was a flashback. Same dark gym, same setup for the DJ, same crowd of girls in and out of the bathroom all night long, giggling while the night was young, teary-eyed as the night went on and the right boy hadn’t asked them to dance, same wall of guys trying to look cool, but secretly hoping some girl would come up to them and ask them to dance.

The differences, while more subtle, were definitely there. First of all, there was no cloud of Aqua Net emanating from the bathroom every time the door opened. Also missing was the ever-present stench of Drakkar Noir coming from the boys’ side. Neither of these was a terrible loss.

The new addition, however, was the cellphone that was in every single attendee’s hand. I watched more than one kid spend about 10 minutes trying to capture just the right selfie, looking like they were having the time of their lives, then actually going out and having the time of their lives. While I must admire the ingenuity of texting each other from 5 feet away, rather than trying to scream over the DJ. I could have gone home with a lot fewer sore throats if I’d had a phone back in the day.

All in all, the evening was pretty much uneventful, which was definitely a good thing. The most critical service I offered all evening was fixing a broken dress strap, and I ended up spending most of the evening being a wallflower, which was a new experience for me. I may have shimmied a few times when some cruel soul requested “Material Girl” from the DJ, but I was quickly put in my place when he also played the song “1985.” If you’re not familiar with that one, well, the best line from that song is “her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool, ’cause she’s still preoccupied, with 1985.”

Talk about a reality check. To be honest, I was already well aware of the fact that I was never going to be “the cool” mom. Since I’m “the old mom,” I barely have the energy to be a mom half the time, much less worry about being cool. I think I’ve also been around long enough to know that my kids are much better served by me being their mom, and not their friend.

There was definitely a time when, in my kids’ eyes, I was “the coolest.” That was back in the day where a surprise stop for ice cream, or a night at the movies where I let them get popcorn and candy, or just taking a day to go somewhere new together made me awesome in their eyes.

These days, small gestures like that get lost in the fights over finishing schoolwork, or the nagging about household obligations. I’ve become more and more aware that while it’s not completely unexpected, my kids spend more time not liking me for enforcing rules and keeping them in line than ever thinking that I’m remotely cool.

These were certainly some of the deepest thoughts that I’d ever had while at a high school dance, and I laughed to think what my 1985 self would have thought of 2021 me. As I thought back to my own dances, I realized I couldn’t remember a single chaperone wallflower being at any of them. Uncool, and completely irrelevant. Attending a high school dance at 48 was way more damaging to my self-esteem than it ever was at 15.

At the end of the evening, I helped with a quick cleanup, and waited for A to help finish his duties as a member of the student group that was sponsoring the event. As we drove home from A’s first official high school social event (his freshman year was pretty anti-social, thanks to COVID), he chattered away about the evening.

While I was becoming acutely aware of a midlife crisis starting, he was just having the best teenage time. As we pulled into the driveway, he surprised me by offering me a quick thanks for my help over the course of the evening. A gracious kid, who hasn’t completely banned me from appearing in public with him. Maybe I’m not the most entirely uncool, irrelevant parent after all.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.