I Can't Believe It's Been 20 Years!

This past weekend, I attended my first high school reunion -- the 20th. No matter how many times I see that number, it doesn't seem possible that it's been 20 years since I marched into my high school gym to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance." A lot has happened since then. I got a college degree, I worked for many years full time in the journalism field, I got married, I moved to a different state, I traveled to or through 41 states, and I've managed to get three of my books published so far. Despite all the accomplishments, part of my less confident younger self emerged in the days leading up to the reunion. I was looking forward to it, to seeing friends I hadn't seen in awhile, but I wondered how people would react to each other. Would they pick up where they left off? Would they naturally gravitate toward who they'd been friends with in high school? Were the people who were at odds then still be that way?

I needn't have worried. Yes, there was some of the gravitating toward the people you'd been closest to in high school, but that makes sense. While I spent time with most people there and really enjoyed the fact that the whole clique thing seemed to have disappeared, I hung out most with my closest friends from back then. In fact, I'm still in contact with them 20 years after we took our diplomas and left our small hometown. I can't mention everyone, so I'm just going to focus on three.

There was Allison, who has been my good friend longer than anyone. We became best friends in 5th grade after being in Girl Scouts together the previous couple of years. I spent an enormous amount of time at her house once we got to middle school since her house was literally two lots from the school. Allison got me through trigonometry in high school, the only class I ever got a C in. It killed my aspirations of being valedictorian, but that's okay because Allison ended up earning that honor. She and I roomed together for a semester in college before she moved to the dorm where most of the music majors lived. (She's an oboe player.) That's Allison on the right in the photo.

The gal in the middle is Kristy, who became the third part of our trio when we got to 7th grade. At the time, the county still had more than one elementary school and she'd gone to one of the ones out in the county while Allison and I went to the school in town. But the smaller schools only went to 6th grade, so we all ended up in middle school together. We were in many of the same classes, clubs, etc. As we moved into high school, we'd go to ballgames together, get ready for dances at Allison's house, and have slumber parties at Allison's house in town or on Kristy's farm. I remember sitting back and watching them practice for marching band (Kristy played flute and later was the flag captain). Kristy became my second roommate in college, for a year and a half until she moved off campus.

They both have three kids now. I like to joke that they each had an extra one for me since I have none. :)

Another good friend in high school was Kim. She lived on the other side of the county, and we'd do things like go horseback riding (at which I was dismal, falling off the animal onto my head the one and only time I attempted to ride with her) or four-wheeling through the mud and creeks. Kim and I walked together at graduation (that's us in the top photo on graduation night), and unfortunately afterward we fell out of touch with each other. Through the wonders of Facebook, we reconnected. She has two adorable daughters now, one of whom looks a lot like her. Kim's mom owns a flower shop in town and did the flower arrangements for the reunion dinner.

The reunion was actually three days of activities. On Friday night, we were supposed to tailgate at the high school homecoming football game. But since the game was canceled because the other team had to forfeit (they got in a big fight with another team the previous week), we ended up having a cookout and eating in our old high school cafeteria. I don't think I'd been in that room since the night I graduated. Some people were easily recognizable as they walked in; others not so much. I kept having to ask Kim who people were. We took a tour of the school. Some things looked the same; even one of the teachers is still there. But there was a new annex, which included a very nice computer lab with big Mac computers. Way better than the Commodore 64 computers we had back in the day. :) There was also a new arena where the basketball games are played, though we did walk through the old gym. Still smelled the same as it did 20 years ago. LOL! And it was funny to see the kids of classmates playing with each other just like their parents did years ago.

The next night was the official dinner at the country club. At one point, we all introduced ourselves, told what we did for a living, if we were married, how many kids, etc. It was interesting to hear what people ended up doing -- teachers, chemical plant workers, lots of nurses, a prison guard, a state trooper, and a variety of other occupations. Only three of us didn't have any kids. The rest had anywhere from one to four.

Sunday morning, one of our classmates who is now a minister preached a service, but I headed home instead of driving back into town for it since I was staying in the next county. I heard it was a nice service though.

Even though the reunion is behind me now, I still can't believe it's been 20 years. I hope the next 20 years don't fly by quite so quickly.

So, have you ever been to a high school reunion? What was it like? Were people the same? Different?

Once More, With Feeling

by Nancy

Feelings. Emotion. The heart of romance in real life and on the page, right? But they also carry over into so many other endeavors. Acting. Cooking. Music. Mr. Phillips, my high school band director, used to tell us to put some feeling into the music. At 17, not particularly familiar with classical pieces, I found that difficult at first. Then, as we played pieces like "The Marriage of Figaro" again and again, with fewer wrong notes, I did begin to feel it, to have a sense of melody rising and falling, of counter-melody moving through it. So did everyone else, and we got better. Sounded better. And I developed a love of classical music I didn't have before.

Some of my best high school experiences came from band-related activities--concerts, parades, and trips. Our band was big, so we needed 3 Greyhound-sized buses to go anywhere. One year, on our way back to the school from the big Thanksgiving parade, someone said, "Let's play our way down the street," so we hauled out our instruments (except the bass drum and tuba, stored under the bus), stuck 'em out the windows, and started to play. Nutty? Sure. Melodic? Probably depended on where you were standing. Fun. Abso-dadgum-lutely!

I look back on those years now and marvel at Mr. Phillips' dedication. On a high school teacher's salary, he taught a disparate group of kids to play complicated musical compositions. He marched beside us in parades, climbed the bleachers with a bullhorn during practice to check halftime show formations, and stood out in the heat with us until we got them right. Mediocre wasn't good enough, not when we could do better. That's a life lesson, too.

He arranged opportunities to travel, even if it was only across the state. The University of North Carolina used to host something called Band Day, inviting high school bands from the Carolinas to Chapel Hill for a football game. They sent everyone the same musical pieces to prepare ahead of time and, on game day, roped off the letters "UNC" in the field's center. Then they filled the entire rest of the field with high school band members, erected stands for the conductors so every musician could see one, and made us the halftime show. Band Day was the first time I heard the phrase at which graduates of other schools scoff, "If God is not a Tar Heel, why is the sky Carolina blue?"

Clearly, Mr. Phillips had a passion for his subject and for his students that showed in everything he did. So did my Latin teacher, Mrs. Brown. Bringing ancient Rome alive takes some doing, but she accomplished that. So much so that when the dh and I first traveled in England, I was desperate to see Hadrian's Wall, the barrier Emperor Hadrian built across the North to keep out the warring Picts. A fanciful version of the wall (and of the Picts or "Woad") appears in the recent King Arthur film. Rosemary Sutcliff wrote a wonderful YA historical novel, Eagle of the Ninth, about the massacre of Rome's Ninth Legion by the Picts north of the wall.

The dh and I had one afternoon to see this marvel of Roman construction, which apparently contributed much of the cut stone for buildings in nearby Hexham. We had to park some distance away, cross a pasture and then climb a hill to get to it. The day was overcast, wind blowing so hard birds couldn't fly and whipping our jackets around us and our hair into our faces. Rain sprinkled on us.


As we trudged across the pasture, heads down to fight the wind, he said, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I nodded. "This is the closest I've ever been to something the Romans built. You can wait in the car if you want, but I'm going up there."

"Okay, then. If you're going, I'm going, too," he said, in true romance hero fashion.

As we struggled up the hill in the wind, discussing the unpleasantness of being stationed there in the winter, a thunderous, ground-shaking sonic boom roared out of the clouds like the voice of Mars, the Roman god of war. It was way freakin' cool, a real goose bumps moment, and worth being a little damp. (We later learned there was an RAF base nearby, so we figured a low-flying fighter had added to the ambiance.). If not for Mrs. Brown, I never would've bothered to seek out the wall. The dh and I would've missed that priceless moment.

Now I'm a teacher, too. The fall semester is starting, and the spring semester evaluations just came back. As usual, most students didn't have much to say, a few seriously disliked something about my approach, and a few were even enthusiastic. Of course, they occasionally write strange things. For example: (Question) "What is your opinion of the course materials?" (Answer) "Boring, but others might like them." (My reaction) "So other people might like being bored?" Or: (Question) "What does that instructor do that contributes to or hinders the success of the class for you?" (Answer, not indicating whether this helped or hindered) "She had already read all the books we covered." (My reaction) "I should hope so!"

The evaluations that mean the most to me, though, are ones that say, "Ms. Northcott has a passion for the subject that gets the class interested" or "She is enthusiastic about teaching this topic." Along with being told I made a student think of something in a new way, I consider that the highest praise I can receive. The luxury of teaching part-time, the compensation for the pittance I earn, is that I get to teach classes I really care about. I'm glad that comes through to the students and that they respond to it. Looking back, I realize I also responded to my teachers' enthusiasm, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

What about you? What teachers do you remember having a passion for their subjects? What subjects or activities are you passionate about?

Too Busy to Think

by Christie Kelley

Well, it now after 8 am and I just remembered it’s my day to blog. Does that tell you all anything about my life this week? If not, let me give you an idea of what has been happening with me.

Last week my husband and I took the kids to Disneyworld for the entire week. That’s seven days of standing in lines, walking around the parks, trying not to get sunburned, and fighting the masses of people who go there every year. I still don’t quite see the allure of it all, yet I know people who travel there every year (some even twice a year). Now, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy myself. I really did have fun. But the only thing more exhausting than Disney is going to conferences.

We did have a blast and I finally stood in line for Rockin Rollercoaster and loved it. I think it has become my favorite ride in all the parks. And my husband has finally decided he likes roller coasters. At least the Disney variety.

I finally made it home on Saturday evening and started the laundry. Sunday was my day to start the catch-up from work (and finish the never-ending laundry). On Monday when I thought things were finally settling down, guess what comes in from the Fed Ex guy.

Yes, that’s right. My copyedits for Every Time We Kiss. I finally had the nerve to open them up on Tuesday to get a start on them since they have to be back to my editor by Monday. Yikes!! Lots of yellow Post-it notes. For anyone who doesn’t know, copyeditors will make comments and questions on Post-it notes. So I’ve been secluding myself in my office with the PC off, trying to get through them all. I’m just over half-way there.

And to make things more fun, my husband had to go to Northern Virginia on Tuesday for a training class and won’t be home until tonight.

The best thing of all this is...school starts next week!!! My life will start to get back to normal again.

Now that we’re all caught up on my crazy life, what’s been going on here? For those of you who have been to any of the Disney Parks, do you love it? What’s your favorite ride there? If not, are you an amusement park fan or not?

And now, for the best question of all...is anyone else getting excited about school starting soon?

Back to High School

by Donna MacMeans

This weekend I went back to high school -- well, not MY high school. My husband and I drove to Cleveland to see my nephew's graduation. He attended Twinsburg High School which is located in the town famous for their twins days festival. Out of his graduating class of 318, we counted 16 sets of possible twins. I'm not sure one can attend that high school without the sense that you're always seeing double.

No where is the sense of accomplishment and optimism for the future stronger than at a high school graduation. The intensity practically sizzled. As we waited through the roll call of seniors anticipating futures as neurosurgeons, microbiologists, and video game designers, I found it difficult not to reflect on my own graduation (mumble-mumble) years ago. Had you asked me way back then what my future held, I would have guessed I'd be an English teacher. I certainly never anticipated making a career out of Accounting, nor did I envision being a published author. Life has a funny way of changing those courses we thought we had planned so carefully.

Last weekend wasn't the first time in May that I was lost in that particular reflection. Earlier in the week I was invited to return to Greenhills to address the library in that community. This was the closest I could come to returning to my high school, Greenhills High School - home of the Pioneers. You see, my alma mater no longer exists. The building that housed the high school is now a middle school of a different name. A high school in an adjacent community services the area previously assigned to my old school.

So I went to the library which was set in a small shop in an old strip mall. The library wasn't there either back in my day. In spite of the rain, a few people actually came to here me speak (Shock!) One of them was an old classmate of mine. (Greater Shock!) You know the song from Saving Jane with the lyrics "She's Miss America and I'm just the girl next door"? Leanne was always the one nominated for Homecoming Court and eventually, Homecoming queen, for all the years I attended school. We knew each other, but we'd never would have be considered close friends. I regret that now as it seems we have more in common than high school. I never knew her plans for after graduation but I suspect they took a different path.

My plan was to post my high school picture up on the blog, but it appears my yearbook has gone the way of my high school. I can find the year books for my kids, my husband and my father (1938) - but not mine! It's a real bummer. I thought the photo album I inherited would have at least one graduation photo...nada. You might have noticed, however, some other banditas offered their high school pictures.

So do you have a high school experience you'd like to share? Did life travel along the path you had envisioned back then? Can you identify the banditas in the photographs? Do you know where your high school yearbook is? (Are you sure?)

A signed copy of THE EDUCATION OF MRS. BRIMLEY goes to the person with the best high school story. Can't wait to hear them.