Kennedy High School - Profiles Yearbook (Bloomington, MN)

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Sugar and spice, and everything nice. Snakes and snails and puppy dogs' tails. A remembrance of things past. 1963. A time to remember. . . when seniors' hearts were young and boys cried as often as did the girls, when having a new set of Crayolas was about the most important thing in the whole world. It was 13 years ago when this year's graduates first began their careers, and teachers started talking about what the Class of '76 would be like when these students advanced from fingerpainting in class to teepeeing at night. Kindergarten: It is hard to tell who cries the most, you or your mother as she walks you to school and gives you a good-luck kiss. First grade: Nervous but excited about your first hot lunch, you get into the line. All goes well until your classmates object to you getting 2 scoops of potatoes. You turn red as the cook tells everyone that it's because you're a little large for your age. Second grade: You ask to be line leader but get sent to the back because the teacher is mad about you getting sick all over the kid in front of you. After . that, it is tough to get someone to hold hands in the lunch line. For the first time, you discover what it means to perspire. Third grade: The ultimate in embarrassment comes when a GIRL beats you up the rope and your manhood is threatened. You vow never to speak to her-again, or at least until you beat her at something like arm wrestling. You know how to cheat at that game. Fourth grade: Oh, the bother of it all. . . You wonder what you can do to make yourself less appealing. Your reputation is endangered as girls keep giving you the eye. Deep down, however, you aren't worried about getting girlitis because you've had your daily girl germ shot. Fifth grade: Incredible, You're only 10 years old and your social life is already over. You have to miss the neighborhood pom-pom-poloway game because you've got to stay in and do homework. Yech. Whoever invented long division should be shot. 20

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While our parents were boring the world with such activities as rubbing candle wax on screens of teachers' windows or tipping over garbage pails . . . The Great American TEEPEE . . . Students of the 70s, reflecting the teachings of Modern American Public Education, discovered that TP has more than one use, one that's purely social. Time: 7:11 p.m. Members of East Bloomington Special TP Forces plot evening's strategy. Members select TP on basis of squeezable Softness and list victims in Order of priority, also based on degree of squeezable softness. Time: 7:23. Commandos case victim's territory to make sure he's at home and occupied with something other than another girl. Indeed, this victim, Kurt Schuster, is unoccupied and definitely looks squeezable. Time: 7:25. Victim hears strange noises in yard and sends killer beast to investigate. Commandos subdue killer beast with big kisses and promises of generous payments of Bonamo's Turkish Taffee, chocolate flavor. Time: 7:35 p.m. Defying her early toilet training. Chief Commando K. Gilbertson, sljows that she has learned to us«’ TP in a way other than the one Mother Gilbertson and Mother Nature had intended. Time: 7:55 p.m. Special Forces troops K. Gilbertson, T. Fetter, J. Christensen, I. Beckstrom, and W. Peichel vie for notice from Guinness Book of World Records after covering a 15-foot birch with an amazing 20 rolls of TP, double-ply. Time: 8:10 p.m. Officer John Nelson of the Police Toilet Paper Defense Squadron is skeptical as he examines blueprints for a gigantic outhouse to go next to the toilet paper rack they've just completed. 19

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Sixth grade: Next to cursive writing the most exciting thing in your life is getting to wear pants to school. The liberation of it all. . . Now you can forget all that stuff about keeping your legs crossed when you sit and you can flop around like those slobs, the boys. Tenth grade: You start to have the social life you deserve when word gets around that you have gotten your driver's license. Visions of sumptuous dates spent at Post Road fill your dreams and may even become a reality. . . once you learn to shift the car's gears. Seventh grade: Coming with your friends, dancing with your friends, talking with your friends, and leaving with your friends is the way it goes at your first junior high dance. Trouble is, your friends are all of the same sex. A girl wonders if the boys are as boring as they look. Eleventh grade: He's your father, and he couldn't be prouder, so he takes pictures of you in front of the TV, on the front steps, in front of the fireplace, in front of your boyfriend . . . He'll be up when you get home, for he'll never believe his little girl has grown up. Eighth grade: Well, you're paying the price. Those chocolate malts, French fries, pizza, candy bars, potato chips, and pop may taste good going down, but the next day it's Pimple City. Suddenly, you start listening more carefully to Clearasil ads by the Wolf Man, 'cause he's been there, you know. Ninth grade: Can this be Heaven? This is the moment you've been waiting for . . . the first kiss after the big Oak Grove-Port land football game. Obviously, all that Ultra-Britedid the trick. Now, if you would have remembered the Certs, he might have kissed you again. Twelfth grade: With diploma in hand, you're ready to face the world. It takes an event like Graduation to make you realize that your life during the last 13 years has been a collection of first-hand experiences — some terrific, some OK, and some just barely tolerable, at least at the time. While you are happy to leave high school and move into new worlds of adventure, you're not nearly as happy as your teachers who stand by at the Met June 2 just to be sure that you are, indeed, leaving. They've enjoyed you, but after all, enough is enough. 21