Yearbook, belated

Good grief! Background; my daughter graduated high school last spring. For some reason, the school yearbook wasn't ready before the end of the year, so the kids were told to come back and pick it up in August; the school would let us know when. August came and went, but we were way more focused on getting her off to college for her first year. When I eventually contacted the school, in October, I was told "Oh, they're not printed yet - but we'll get them by the end of November."

In December the contact person, who was definitely sounding frazzled, said unhappily that the printer (Josten*) had promised them by end of January.

Wednesday, K told me that she'd heard from a friend that yearbooks (for the 2022-2023 school year!) had finally arrived. Apparently, at this point, letting people KNOW that they can come pick them up has gone by the wayside. I feel sorry for anyone who isn't connected enough to the grapevine to learn this. I contacted the school to confirm, and we'll run down there this afternoon.

'* May they all be visited by the ghosts of incontinent hyenas

Bully reverse

   One of the things that always bothered me about the severe bullying I experienced in school was how many other kids just sat and watched it happen. Sometimes onlookers were laughing and finding the bullying funny, and I’m not talking about that; I’m talking about when it was obviously offensive even to the onlookers, but they did nothing about it.

   So, anyway, a very good morning to Darlene, who got right up in a bully’s face and ripped him a new one for bothering me. Despite the fact that she was petite* and didn’t even really know me well. That was awesome and I remember her fondly decades later. She was a salty little lass with a commanding vocabulary.

* ok, maybe BECAUSE she was petite.

Grads and Sads

   Career & Tech Center graduation was last night, with yesterday as the last day of school for seniors. Gowns, ceremony, big smiles, awards, cheering family members. You know, the good stuff.

   Girl is almost in tears this morning. Nearly as sad and downhearted as after a romantic breakup. No school today. No (much beloved) Mr. R explaining new concepts or giving kids The Look when they misbehave. No friends cracking jokes at lunch. No more friendly building with creaky old doors and hallways full of other teens. No more contact with the ‘sorta friends’; people who are fun to see in school but not close enough to maintain contact outside of school.

   It really made me think. There is a lot of attention paid to the graduation process, the ceremony and the triumph. There is very little discussion of just how emotionally jarring - even crushing - it can be to suddenly have to let go of half of your life. And you can’t even revisit the building, because the joy that was there was the people around you, and they are scattered to the four winds. The teachers move on to a new class (they remember you, though, I do know that.) It hurts. It can hurt a LOT, and take a while to get over.

   I know some grads are desperately relieved to be out, for a variety of reasons. But I think the majority shed at least a few tears. That’ll be the thought for the day, I guess.

Print

   It is a consistent source of vexation that schools (and colleges) have “outsourced” some of their former functions to the students or parents. For example; printing things. WHEN did it become MY job to print worksheets, lab sheets, or photos for the school? I can’t keep a printer running to save my neck! The one I have now will only print black, despite the fact that it “should” be able to print color - that part mysteriously died two years ago (right after I had changed to new ink cartridges, so that wasn’t the problem). I’m going to have to drive to Staples this evening just to get one photo printed (that MUST be in color) for an assignment for my daughter. If the school needs kids to print things, they should do it for them with their big office printers that use toner cartridges instead of ink. I’m relatively lucky - what are the kids going to do whose parents can’t help them for one reason or another? This assignment wasn’t given until Tuesday and is due Thursday - so it’s not like folks will have time to figure something out if their work schedule is tough or they can’t easily make time. Grr.

Tech-Ed

   We found out at the last minute yesterday that there was an Open House for the Career/Tech Center that my daughter attends. We had missed out on meeting her electrical teacher at the parent conferences, because he was not available that day, so we were happy to get a second chance. She, my husband, and I arrived there just as the open house (which is supposed to be for next year’s incoming students) was getting underway. As we passed through the building the vice principal, her math teacher, and several other staff greeted her with big smiles.

   She escorted us proudly to the cavernous room for electrical students and we met her teacher, a Large guy with a laid-back demeanor. I though it was very impressive for a person tasked with coping daily with teenagers, power tools, and live electrical circuits to be so chill.

   We got to see the “house,” a structure framed with 2x4s to approximate eight tiny rooms and a hallway. Each mini-room had some combo of switches, outlets, bigger outlets, panel boxes, smoke detectors, and doorbells. The studs of the walls have had so many nails and staples put in them and pulled out again that they looks ready to crumble. There were wires of every color strung everywhere - but neatly. It was such a delight to see - and a riot to hear her explaining panel boxes to us.

   Elsewhere in the room were solar-powered go-karts, arcade machines brought in to be fixed and re-sold, and a model hydroelectric plant. I have never wanted to play with a go-kart. But now I do.

Let’s Go, Team!

 (In which we experience small town high school football)

  All the member of the various fall sports teams (ergo my daughter, who runs Cross Country) were invited to participate in the big Homecoming pep rally on Thursday evening. I went, as a parent, feeling a little melancholy about this being the last year I’ll have a child in high school. I had to wait on the hard, cold bleachers for about half an hour for the event to begin, which gave me plenty of time to reflect on the fact that most of the other parents and family members around me had thought to bring cushions or blankets to sit on, and I had not.  I will note that it can be kinda haha, oh well, funny as an adhd person to forget necessary things for the nth time, but it can also be deeply inconvenient. I looked somewhat wistfully at the ladies in front of me sharing a thick, cushy quilt. At least there was plenty of space, and nobody was crowded together.

  At the top of the hour the band* started playing. I love listening to the high school band. I attended this high school myself, so  I have loved the band for about 40 years! They are good, they enjoy what they’re doing, and it’s always an uplifting experience when the drummer starts the beat at the beginning of the set. They lined up in two lines facing each other, and the kids from all the fall sports other than football started processing down the big staircase and between the lines of bandkids. They filed into an assigned section of the bleachers, and I had a few tears at the corners of my eyes from watching my girl go by. There is an auxiliary band position for a person to run about the field with an extra large red flag. That position typically goes to a student with Down’s syndrome or similar, and they always get plenty of applause.

  It was good (aside from the fact that they spent way, WAY too long giving introductions of people.) Every coach – of every sports team. Every football player. Every school group or parent group that helped decorate. The cheer – and flagsquad – and more cheer – coaches. School administration. The entire homecoming ‘court’, ten in all, had bios read about them.

  Other than that, it was enjoyable. The cheerleaders encouraged us to yell; two thumbs up. I did not come here to sit quietly! The band played several times, the small choir sang (which made me cry again), ten or twelve percussionists did a humorous routine involving garbage cans. One of the cheer routines involved the senior football players joining IN with the moves. They all stripped off their jerseys and wore white tank tops. Two of them – football players! - got thrown in the air as the cheerleaders often are; thankfully not the biggest of them. That ended ok, but I admit it felt a little tense. They got big applause and laughter.

  Then it all came to an end, and kids and parents flooded toward the exits. The hordes of band kids and football players streamed in a ragged line toward the locker rooms to change. I managed to find my offspring, she bid goodbye to her beau, and we walked away toward our car in good spirits. Last time, though. It is the very last time.

  *   When the entire band winds completely-all-the-way up, they can be heard from the higher points of our farm about SIX MILES (9.6 km) away.

New electrician

   Last spring my daughter made the surprise decision to attend the Career  / Vo-tech Center for her final year of high school. She is in the electrical program. After the first full day of classes, she returned home bubbling about wiring sample outlets during class, hitting her thumb with a hammer, getting the wires just so - it was fun! I was incredibly glad to hear it. She also felt that her math teacher is the best she has had at explaining the concepts, and the homework will be reasonable (ie much less than prior years.)

   Whew. Keepin’ my finger crossed and my hopes moderate, but it’s good to hear some good news.

Senior Pictures

   Ok. The summer before the final year of high school (senior year) in the US, the kids get Senior Pictures and it can be a big heckin’ deal. I took my daughter to the photographer this afternoon for her appointment, which was quick and painless. When we got home she was telling my son about it.

  [ For backstory, he got pulled out of public school in his second-to-last year and home-schooled. He had a chronic, antiobiotic-resistant tickborne illness; his immune system was trashed, he was sleeping 12 hrs a day. Regular school was just no longer an option. Due to fuckery at the Board of Ed, who knew our situation and chose to screw us over anyway, he was not able to rejoin school and graduate with his peers the next year. Didn’t matter TOO much because his ‘senior’ year was 2019-2020 . . and NOBODY got a graduation ceremony in spring of 2020! ]

   However, today, when she was telling him about the photos, he made a wistful comment that he never got senior photos at all. And he didn’t! My heart just crumpled. I’m going to . . have to get this boy some photos. All the other rites of passage, the prom, graduation, were unavoidably missed. But we can get some pictures. We can do that.

Priceless memories

   Wow. It’s priceless to get out Ye Olde high school yearbook and share it with the kids.

See this cute li’l freshman with the 80s hair? She’s the grumpy lady in the main office, now!

Kids:  !!!!!!!

See this wild-eyed young man with the barely-there ‘stache and the 80s hair? That’s your friend Kenny’s dad.

Kids:  !!!!!!

Me: Wanna see your cousin Wy’s mom? Look!

Kids: OMG the HAIR

Me: 80s. Yep.