New Bedford High School - Crimson Log Yearbook (New Bedford, MA)

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Time Remembered When I first started here as a freshman, the four years I was destined to spend in this building seemed likened to infinity. Junior high school ideas poured back into my mind: stories of gang molestings and fre- quent encounters with insurmountable homework were suddenly remembered and dreaded. Due to a lack of confidence I became hesitant. Here I was, making my post-puberty leap into adulthood. I was afraid of doing something horribly wrong, such as forgetting my locker combination. That was probably worth a three-day suspension, at least. Looking back, I realize that my most significant fear was the fact that I was only one student out of four thousand. And in the freshman class at that. Never had I been exposed to so many people, or so many rules. It was difficult to be accepted by the older students. They were more experienced in everything, and they knew it. There wasn’t that much a freshman could do about it, either, except suffer in silence. Thankfully, I discovered my fellow freshmen were going through the same problems, and I was not alone. The unity that was soon created among my young friends took the sting out of the omnipresent discrimina- tion. The rest of the year was spent faithfully abiding by every law and rule applying to the school and proper behavior. We were ingenuously ignorant of the forged yellow slip, the sneak into a neighboring cafeteria, or the skipping of a class. Attention was hard to come by in those early years, so mostly everyone forgot about seeking it. I learned my way around the school, made a few older friends, and began to lose the fears that accompanied my first steps into New Bedford High School. As the year finally came to a close, the anticipa- tion of summer was surpassed by the thrill of realizing that soon, we would not be freshmen. Someone else would. The two years that followed were very comfortable. I was still anxious to become a senior, a glorious sen- ior; but there was still plenty of time left, so I settled down and began a “‘social life.” I met a lot more people, some younger, some older, and was influenced easily. I attended more school dances and the assorted func- tions that are typical of high school. I became more interested in the football and basketball teams, and paid a lot of attention to their records. I even went out for a team myself. My attitude and personality were subject to change, as were my ideas about particular subjects and people. I had plenty of friends now, and was more prone to hang around in a group with the same people every day. I felt safe with them. I didn’t have to speak up or make a stand on any certain issue. As the time passed, my friendships changed, too, but my closest friends always remained by my side and they were still the ones I chose to confide in. Time has a way of showing you who your real friends are.

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I became more adept at getting into and out of trouble, and I learned all about those forged yellow slips and the skipping of classes. I even learned where to hide during “Code 533.” I felt really proud now, and figured I was as much a part of New Bedford High School as anyone could be. However, these little passed-down tricks were only minor accomplishments. I didn’t know it at the time, but the decisions I was making more and more frequently were transforming me into an adult. The importance of these decisions was shaping my life. I saw the guidance counselors more frequently, and became aware of the fact that I wouldn’t be in this school forever. SAT’s and Achievement tests had to be taken and I had to get a rough idea of what I wanted as a career, so that they could help me to choose a college. It wasn’t easy, but it got done, and plans were made. My life began to open up in front of me, as far as my eyes could see. It all happened so fast. As my Junior year began to fade out, the old excitement of becoming a senior was rekindled. The Junior Banquet was spent discussing the big plans of how the miraculous transformation into a Senior would be dealt with. It WAS a miracle. Three years of waiting. When the summer vacation began, I felt relieved. Starting in September, I wouldn’t be a kid anymore. As most green leaves turn old and limp, so did the summer. On September 8th I entered the building a Senior. I was a little surprised at the school’s welcome. It didn’t give much of a damn. I saw my reflection in one of those glass cases that adorn the walls of the school. It was the same reflection I had seen last year, and the year before that. No difference. I was still subject to rules and regulations, red tape and report cards. The work was even a little harder. Everyone seemed to think the Seniors could carry more of a burden because “they were the oldest.” We were, of course, envied by the younger students because it was our last year. College junk was cluttering my mailbox now, beckoning me to leave home and begin a new life. “Well,” I thought, “this is Senior living.” I was at first disappointed. It all seemed to be such a letdown, and I became angry. I started to think. Soon my anger subsided and I became saddened with my Senior year. After this, no matter what happened, I could not return. I would never have the convenience of seeing all my friends, every day, again. I would probably never be able to relax fully on weekends, as college schoolwork or a job would keep me from enjoying myself. I would hardly ever walk these familiar corridors again, with their awkward design and unmatching “house” doors. The gym would become a memory, along with auditorium periods, fire drills, cafeteria food and those yellow slips. All the girls I ever fell in love with, but never had the guts to say anything to, would probably go off and get married. I would once again be an inexperienced child in the new life I was entering. AcVEP Pali 23