Chipley High School - Paw Prints Yearbook (Chipley, FL)

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FI ° Vf, O I where 'Ut we wifj path and My eleventh grade year brought class rings, magazine sales. American History, vocational school for many, a winning homecoming float, a free “Tiger Scratch”, and a quiet apprehensive knowledge that our senior year was coming. A dozen years of learning were concluded with the best year of all. We shall recall Mrs. Cleveland’s teaching by video tape, a famous physics mural, tutoring and being idolized by the first graders, a great homecoming, greeting a 6’6” freshman, senior portraits, selling garbage cans, another winning float. King Tut in New Orleans, everything seeming to fall into place, and graduation. I am bombarded with questions. What will my occupation be? Will I ever marry? Will 1 learn to be as sure of myself as others seem to be? Can I ask for a job? Can I make myself get to work on time? If I have a family of children, will I be an adequate parent? Will I handle situations with wisdom? Will I procastinate as an adult just as I do now? Will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut? Will my parents be proud of me? Will I be proud of myself? Will my friends remember me? Whatever the answers to the questions, where ever my life may lead, however uncertain my future,— I can not deny the influence, Chipley High School has had on my life. I cannot escape its lessons, its people, or its presence. 17

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I am a senior. Al the thought of leaving Chipley High School 1 am happy, misty, lonesome for old friends, and wary of the future. I cannot help but be excited, proud of myself and relieved that it is all over. Yet 1 frequently know moments of panic when 1 allow my mind to rest on the thought that I will soon be on my own and that what 1 have said I would do. I must now begin to do.. I must move on. It is suddenly strange that in a society where personal choice is important, 1 have no choice. But then, I had no choice when I began Kate Smith Elementary School. 1 was, along with my new friends, wondering about electric paddles, struggling with the alphabet, losing my lunch money, rushing to the restroom just in the nick of time, worrying over multiplication tables, trying out the “open area”, and dreading the junior high. And, 1 had no choice when I moved on to Roulhac Middle School with its “Dolly-doos” and “Booger Bears”, threatening lectures, “hot pants” in class, girlfriends, boyfriends. interscholastic sports, pride in the burgundy and gold, and terrible stories about the high school. As a freshman. I listened to Mr. Bridenback's guitar, wrote my autobiography, ftiade signs for the hall. “scrapped” with upperclassmen at lunch, learned what homecoming was all about, caught people on fire, looked up to seniors and tried to forget that hauntingly horrible first day of high school. 1 got my drivers' license in the tenth grade and began to “sport about town”. I enjoyed not being a freshman any more and looked forward to being a junior. -r rOlORS vll| ri ‘9 'Cl! n mQy . 4 r'! n 1- p) I ' w?Jl leave 16

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John Bell Ronnie Brigham Ethel Brown Laguana Brown Monica Calverly Patricia Carnley Cindy Carr Yolanda Carr Janet Carter Charlene Carter Linda Clark is