Groveton High School - Tigerama Yearbook (Alexandria, VA)

Page 29 text:

DIARY OF A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT I was at my locker when the intercom came on. All students, began Mr. Ford, with last names beginning with H-M should report to the left cafeteria in Quander for their WT-100 forms unless you have turned in your form already. If that is so, then report to the right cafeteria at ten o ' clock and tell your counselor that you ' ve turned it in unless your name begins with J-K. If that ' s so, then report to the lower media center at one o ' clock and tell them that. Thank-you. I stepped outside and headed for Gunston. I had to reset my watch twice as I went through two time zones. I nearly fainted from the smell when I went inside the locker room. But managed to stay on my feet and dressed hurriedly. Today was my tennis lesson. Okay, class, said the teacher. Pick up your tennis balls. The ball is our friend. Pick up your tennis racquets. The racquet is your friend. Don ' t beat your ball with your racquet. All I want you to do today is hit the ball against the wall with your racquet. Okay? Good. After my tennis lesson, I went to my next class, history, which is so unnecessary. I mean, if history always repeats itself, I ' ll just sit here and watch everything happen again. Who can tell me what we talked about yesterday? asked the teacher. I sank down into my chair. The teacher spotted me. Young man, he said, you don ' t appear to be paying much attention. Can you tell me, in one word, about the famous Italian astronomer, Galileo? I looked up. Dead. In math I sat near the door so I could get out quickly to avoid the lunch line. The teacher spent the whole period explaining that a plane looked like the cover on her kitchen linoleum. She was just about to get into depth about her bathroom wallpaper when the bell rang. I ran to the cafeteria and bought the main lunch, which was a mistake. My green beans were alive and well, but the chicken who gave me that thigh probably never was. The milk leaked to form a puddle in the corner of the tray. I threw the food away and went to my next class hungrier than when I entered the lunch room. French was pretty uneventful. The class spent the entire period watching the teacher make nasal vowels. Finally, the bell rang. In English we had a substitute, a woman who just didn ' t know what was going on. Your teacher has told me, she began, that you ' re working on entry 26 — Mental Disorders of Mice. What ' s a journal? some of the class said innocently. What class am I in? They kept up this routine until the bell rang. Finally! My last class of the day, biology. We were going to dissect a frog. My partner let me have the honors of cutting out the vital organs. I began with the heart. I did it slowly and watched her eyes widen as she clutched at her stomach. She ran out when I reached the liver. I finished cleaning up as the class e ded. I ran out the door to catch my bus. I was almost to it when the front of the long line of buses began to move. I spotted my bus, unmoving and with the door still open. I ran to it and went inside. I found the nearest seat and sat down. The bus lurched, and we were on our way. I looked around and saw strange faces watching me curiously. Oh, no, I thought. I ' m on the wrong bus. Timothy Cain 25

Page 31 text:

i Mjvjfi REMINISCENCES When the Class of 1980 entered the New Groveiun in September 1976, everyone else was just as lost as we were. Like all freshmen, we had to get used to pep rallies, football games, and SENIORS. But we were like the SENIORS in one way that year because we all had to get used to Gunston, Quander and Spring Bank. That first year we struggled to find a place. Those SENIORS seemed so old and grownup. Would we ever be that old? The differences were probably the most obvious at pep rallies. The SENIORS would yell things at us as we sat there not knowing what to do. By the end of the year, we knew what to do, and we could almost — almost — yell back. We had to show them who we were. Sophomore year brought more learning. Just when we thought we knew who we were, we were back in limbo again. We weren ' t the cute little f rosh anymore, but we sure weren ' t SENIORS. The Class of 80 became known for its school spirit and involvment. Upperclassmen started to notice us. Winning first prize for the homecoming float didn ' t hurt either. We endured many things, including bad publicity for the school after The Shooting. The Sophs did their best to keep up a good image for the school. Then, junior year. Almost there. We accomplished a lot. SENIORS looked at us and felt envious of grades and test scores. We made the most of a diffic ult situation when GHS temporarily became Ft. Grunt. We had our club and class meetings and put on the Prom. Remember all those awful fund-raisers (that terrible dance!)? But still, we enjoyed our free afternoons of the split-shift while it lasted. Then there was the start of the rowdies. The Juniors prepared to take over for the SENIORS when they got ready to retire their togas. And now we are SENIORS. Carrying on the traditions. Senior pranks, parties (with a lot of Sophs), and waiting. Waiting to get out, waiting to hear from colleges, waiting to find what ' s out there. After enduring 3 years of lost homecoming games, we watched Groveton win its first homecoming game in 11 years. A fitting send-off for the Class of 80. And so here we are. Waiting and watching. Passing the time in classes, clubs, parties, anything to make the time go faster. But it will probably seem too fast when it ' s over. Graduation will come and we ' ll wonder if we ' ve done everything we needed to do. We ' ll wonder if it was worth it. I think we ' ll find that it has been. Good luck, SENIORS! Amy Killpatrick 27