Welcome to a series of stories that basically make up my autobiography. It’s not entirely thorough, but I’ll do the best I can with the memories locked away inside my head. Could be therapeutic for me. Could be humorous for you. Either way, enjoy…
Previously on Life Story… I’d made it to my junior year and somehow got invited to a party at one of the popular kids’ houses. Don’t worry, I didn’t let it go to my head.
In my junior year of high school, my English and history classes were basically combined. It was actually a pretty neat set up. We met in a double-sized classroom that held about 50 of us. Mr. Flanagan and Mr. Isaacs would pretty much team teach the giant class.
Early in the school year, we were divided up into groups. This division was to prepare us for the ultimate social sciences assignment: The Decades Project.
Our big assignment for the first semester was to pick one year from our assigned decade and write a newspaper, giving the chosen year a sort of year in review edition. I can’t remember the specific year that our group chose, but I know our decade was the 60s. I want to say our newspaper was based on 1969. A lot happened that year, and at the end of the decade, it made sense to mention some of the major events of the decade on the whole.
The big project happened toward the end of the year. Each group was tasked, basically, with writing a play and performing that play for the rest of the class. Oh, and some of the freshmen and sophomore classes got to come in and watch, too. No pressure or anything.
As with most of my high school memories, I’ve repressed a lot of this, so I don’t remember much of it. I do remember that I played a kid who had just found out he was being drafted and would be going to Vietnam. So a few hippies decided to take me on a cross-country trip as a sort of last hurrah. And we broke down near a farm somewhere in the Midwest. We felt this gave us a nice cross-section of Americana and could use each of those characters to explore the events of the 60s.
I remember getting together with my group and working on things at the Waffle House and at Kinko’s. These places were much better than working in the library. I know we all worked really hard on the thing, but I can’t remember how our grades turned out. I really want to believe we all got A’s. Whatever the case, I know we passed, because all but one of us showed up for senior year. The one who didn’t graduated after junior year.
High school was almost over…