Weston High School - Key Yearbook (Weston, MA)

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Parting With Summer Fun A Freshman perspective. W alking into Weston High School on that Thursday morning was like walking to the electric chair. I knew that as soon as I went through that door I would be the “Lowly Freshman”, the bottom of the pecking order, the most likely candidate to be thrown in the slimy duck pond; alias, Freshman wading wa¬ ters. All I had heard during the eighth grade was that if you were disliked you were in the pond, or else you were sub¬ jected to serious abuse in the hall by the reigning upper classmen. I tried to look cool when I walked into the cafeteria, but suddenly I found myself standing by the door alone. I swear I heard some kids laughing, then, thank God, I saw a group of my friends over by the phones. The day got worse. I could not get my locker open, so I told my home¬ room teacher that it usually took me two months to master the art of opening my locker. She laughed. Fm glad some¬ one thought it was funny. At lunch my friends and I tried to sit by the windows in the cafeteria, but we were told by a senior to move to the “nerd” section. For the rest of the day I tried to keep a low profile. Finally school was out and I went out¬ side to see my bus leaving. I ran after it, yelling for it to stop — dropping my books all over the pavement. I looked up and saw every single kid in the High School laughing at me. Totally embarrassed, I got on my bus, sank down into one of the back seats, hoping no one would notice me. Says a Senior. I hoist my faded jeans up over my rear, while simultaneously wrenching my sweatshirt over my head. As I shake my wet summer blonde hair into place, I glimpse at my reflection in the mirror. Good, I still look tan. I thank Mom for letting me drive on the first day of school as I pass her a quick kiss. Within three minutes my car is parked and I slip my hands half-way into my back pockets and saunter towards the front of the school. It’s exciting to see people I haven ' t seen since finals last spring, but the conversation remains extremely lim¬ ited and based around the question, “How was your summer?” Lunch time is a unique experience in itself. The class of 85, guys and girls, ac¬ tually congregate at mutual territory along the radiator. As a senior, this place is rightfully mine. While in a huddle of close friends, someone points out a group of freshmen who have precariously ven¬ tured too close to senior territory, per¬ ching themselves against our radiator. Stupid frosh, we laugh at them cynically, and kick them out. Unfortunately the day goes by quickly and already feels routine. Summer fanta¬ sies and stories are dismissed as the field hockey team dresses for their game, and the soccer team begins their three mile trek around the fields. I head toward the locker room with my cleats draped over my shoulder and my soccer ball under my arm. This is it — only 179 more to go. Above: “Who’s got Math D period ?” Left: Getting back into the swing of things is important to everyone after a summer away from Weston school friends. Far Left: Stepping off of the bus at the beginning of the season, Chris Berg anticipates a successful fall for the soccer team. The Best Part First Day 17

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The Best Part Sports 19