VOL. XXIV, NO. 9
JUNE 3, 1983
High school brings
humorous memories
humorous memories
I can't believe that it's actually over! When I first realized I had only a few days left before I would be leaving high school, I just couldn't speak. Now I must leave the shelter of high school and go out into the real world. I don't think that I am quite ready for the real world and I know that the world is not ready for me.
But after accepting the fact that I would be leaving the sheltered life of a suburban teen, I began to remember our four years at Maine West. All of the classes, teachers, homework, detentions, and glorious moments.
Remember freshman year? Of course. That's the year we learned about the newest hairstyle, the Swirlly. Many freshmen had this style of hair and not only did it inspire great hair designers all over the world, but it brought back the "Wet Look."
Freshman year was also the year we learned about an upperclass ritual known as "Book Dumping." This little beauty would happen during the busiest times of the day in the most crowded hallways. A freshman would be carrying around a huge stack of books (among them would be Superman Comics, Hair Grease Made Easy, and Real Freshmen Don't Bathe) and a senior would walk up from behind and proceed to distribute the freshman's books on the floor. That's not all! The rest of the people would then kick the books out of the freshman's reach filling the halls with the sounds of laughter and flying paper.
The biggest cultural experience of freshman year was riding the bus. Only on the bus can one see all walks of life and all types of human beings in one place. The only way to avoid the bus is by walking, which is against my religion, riding a bike, which will eventually be stolen, getting a ride home from a friend, which forces one to push the car when it runs out of gas, or drive to school yourself. The latter of which has been proven to be the most hazardous to our health (outside of taking the bus).
But to drive one must be at least 16 and freshmen are too young. The early drivers are sophomores. I remember my sophomore year. That was the year that we got our first car, our first car date, our first car accident, and our first fuzzy dice.
Sophomore year is the year that we tried to really act mature but we were just freshmen in clean clothes. It is also the year when we thought that we had finally matured into adults only to find out that our favorite television show was still Captain Kangaroo. Sophomore year does have its advantages though, for instance, we were not upperclassmen so people didn't expect us to be responsible so we could get away with all sorts of practical jokes.
But after accepting the fact that I would be leaving the sheltered life of a suburban teen, I began to remember our four years at Maine West. All of the classes, teachers, homework, detentions, and glorious moments.
Remember freshman year? Of course. That's the year we learned about the newest hairstyle, the Swirlly. Many freshmen had this style of hair and not only did it inspire great hair designers all over the world, but it brought back the "Wet Look."
Freshman year was also the year we learned about an upperclass ritual known as "Book Dumping." This little beauty would happen during the busiest times of the day in the most crowded hallways. A freshman would be carrying around a huge stack of books (among them would be Superman Comics, Hair Grease Made Easy, and Real Freshmen Don't Bathe) and a senior would walk up from behind and proceed to distribute the freshman's books on the floor. That's not all! The rest of the people would then kick the books out of the freshman's reach filling the halls with the sounds of laughter and flying paper.
The biggest cultural experience of freshman year was riding the bus. Only on the bus can one see all walks of life and all types of human beings in one place. The only way to avoid the bus is by walking, which is against my religion, riding a bike, which will eventually be stolen, getting a ride home from a friend, which forces one to push the car when it runs out of gas, or drive to school yourself. The latter of which has been proven to be the most hazardous to our health (outside of taking the bus).
But to drive one must be at least 16 and freshmen are too young. The early drivers are sophomores. I remember my sophomore year. That was the year that we got our first car, our first car date, our first car accident, and our first fuzzy dice.
Sophomore year is the year that we tried to really act mature but we were just freshmen in clean clothes. It is also the year when we thought that we had finally matured into adults only to find out that our favorite television show was still Captain Kangaroo. Sophomore year does have its advantages though, for instance, we were not upperclassmen so people didn't expect us to be responsible so we could get away with all sorts of practical jokes.
There was a big difference between sophomore and junior year. As juniors we were more mature than underclassmen, but we have been known to start food fights or dress like Japanese tourists. But the big thing that sets juniors apart from everybody else was the way we tried to act cool.
As juniors we used cool street language like, "Hey man,'' and "Wooooaaa," or the ever popular, "How's your old Lady?" While we were juniors we were constantly buddying up to seniors until the end of the year. Then, for the last month or so, we waited like vultures for the seniors to graduate. During a normal conversation juniors, for no reason, started talking about senior prom or graduation. We really pushed the fact that we would be the big shots around here for a year.
I'll admit I did my part to get rid of last year's seniors, but my junior year was much more interesting than just trying to take over the school. By the time the class of '83 had become upperclassmen, but we had been known to ourselves as the most spirited class in the Spectator Gym.
Okay, maybe being spirited is a God given virtue, but we used our gifts to better the school. And that's the job of every senior.
My senior year was by far the best. Both me and my cohorts in crime had a great time keeping all of the underclassmen under an iron fist. But along with being the big shots of the school, senior year brings back a lot of great memories. The best Maine West Hockey Team ever, all of the great parties and people, trying to think of funny things for you to read, getting an ulcer from newspaper deadlines, just barely making it to the gas station hundreds of times, watching the movie E.T. and saying, "That wasn't so great."
One old cliché people use is 'senior year was the best of all years.' Only after senior year is over does one fully realize that it was the best and it will probably never be topped, not even by college.
Looking back over my four years at Maine West I have found this time both rewarding and fulfilling. Both land my fellow classmates will miss West and all of the people in it. Some we will never see again.
I'd like to bid West a fond farewell and wish the school and its students continued success in the future. Here's to a great school, although it won't be the same without the contributions and mischief of the class of 1983.
As juniors we used cool street language like, "Hey man,'' and "Wooooaaa," or the ever popular, "How's your old Lady?" While we were juniors we were constantly buddying up to seniors until the end of the year. Then, for the last month or so, we waited like vultures for the seniors to graduate. During a normal conversation juniors, for no reason, started talking about senior prom or graduation. We really pushed the fact that we would be the big shots around here for a year.
I'll admit I did my part to get rid of last year's seniors, but my junior year was much more interesting than just trying to take over the school. By the time the class of '83 had become upperclassmen, but we had been known to ourselves as the most spirited class in the Spectator Gym.
Okay, maybe being spirited is a God given virtue, but we used our gifts to better the school. And that's the job of every senior.
My senior year was by far the best. Both me and my cohorts in crime had a great time keeping all of the underclassmen under an iron fist. But along with being the big shots of the school, senior year brings back a lot of great memories. The best Maine West Hockey Team ever, all of the great parties and people, trying to think of funny things for you to read, getting an ulcer from newspaper deadlines, just barely making it to the gas station hundreds of times, watching the movie E.T. and saying, "That wasn't so great."
One old cliché people use is 'senior year was the best of all years.' Only after senior year is over does one fully realize that it was the best and it will probably never be topped, not even by college.
Looking back over my four years at Maine West I have found this time both rewarding and fulfilling. Both land my fellow classmates will miss West and all of the people in it. Some we will never see again.
I'd like to bid West a fond farewell and wish the school and its students continued success in the future. Here's to a great school, although it won't be the same without the contributions and mischief of the class of 1983.
Off
Beat
Beat
By Randy Jonson
