George Rogers Clark High School - Powder Horn Yearbook (Whiting, IN)

Page 11 text:

On the way to my locker i associate myself with several individuals. Many are my friends and teachers, others are just acquaintances, and still others are unknown. I arrive at locker 356 and as i am struggling with my lock i overhear a voice exclaim, “Every living and nonliving thing is classified by a number!” While i am dialing 17L-21R-17L i wonder why i am told i am unique, if the only way they can tell me apart from the mass is by a number. As i casually drift into a spontaneous conversation i realize that a group of my classmates are b.s.-ing their way through the controversial subject, the drug problem. I discover whether one considers it a problem or not . . . whether one considers it wrong or right . . . it ' s just a matter of opinion! One fellow, Jay McPipe, anticipates the legalization of marijuana. I question myself and ask if it is considered a drug?—OPINION! People label him as a freak. It doesn’t matter that he is an honor student. I wonder what would be said now if the administration caught wind of his situation? Does it have any bearing on the matter or is it just a usual case of poor judgment? Another person in the conversation, a girl, believes cigarette smoking and liquor can be paralleled to the use of drugs. I conclude that she is classified by others as a ‘straight’ person. I am no longer interested in the conversation specifically because i don ' t want a ninth hour so i proceed to my class. The minutes seem to pass by slowly. The class hours seem never to end. On the way to my sixth period class i am pulled into another conversation. Sally Clark, a proposed ‘rah’ exclaims that she enjoys her last class while someone else contemplates the thought of her being a plastic and overly spirited person. Still a ’freshman’ is confronted by a labeled ’sophomore’ who is questioned by a classified ‘junior’, who was bothered by a ‘senior’! Farther down the hall a ' jock ' is bragging of a winning point and even farther a ' brownie ' is rapping with a teacher. Standing in the hall, taking all this in, i realize the position of people as opinions and stories take form. I wonder why radicals, conservatives, brains, and adults each voice their own individual opinions, and seemingly ignore their neighbors. After all, aren’t we all equal? I now realize . . . There Are Four Sides To Every Story!

Page 13 text:

High School— the best four years of your life.” I wonder if high school—Clark, can be given all this credit? After all it only takes 1,344 required hours of my life. But, then there is homework and research and seldom time for myself. Student life; someone once called it that, but isn ' t my life a game? I have a weekend free so i go to a college campus or a football game. I often wonder why the four seasons are intertwined in a year, which is only a number to add on to my life. I like to think about Autumn. Right around then, everyone is bored with school. Driving around the town, going to unbelievable wild parties, stopping at McDonalds, working ... all are types of escape routes i often try. Sometimes i know exactly what i want to do but there are limitations—like parents of my best friends, the Whiting-Hammond policemen. Besides burning down the school is illegal. By the time Winter comes i am sick of routine. Of course there isn’t much to do around school because of the small amount of activities available to attend, so i began to search elsewhere. My borrowed free time comes to a sudden halt when i realize you do get suspended for ditching. I know that my student life involves more than just school. It involves my habits, my morals, my feelings, my activities—just a column to choose from; some certain subject to guess at. It puzzles me that i cannot figure it all out. What can i call this? Finding out who i am? But i know! It ' s just life set to the rules of a game. Homecoming . . . weekends . . . working . . . Wow Wee . . . drinking . . . clothing . . . everything is just a matter of taste. I guess most of my life really takes place after 3:20 everyday ... it kind of puts my life in a position of Jeopardy!