Class Reunion Speech

            When Heidi asked me to give this speech, I almost said no.  I mean—I can’t remember things that happened yesterday or even this morning. Sometimes I forget the names of my own children.  How am I supposed to remember and make comments on a graduating class from 15 years ago, for Pete’s sake?

            So, I started in the logical place:  the 1995 Southeast Webster annual.  And the memories started flooding back.  Yep—there’s Chrissy and her dad, who was school board president at the time.  There’s Nathan—who won the band AND vocal award that year.    There’s Jon Walker and his long red hair.  K, it’s all coming back to me now.  It seemed appropriate to organize this little speech around the 1995 Aerie yearbook:  “Making our Mark.”

            Journey back with me 15 years, when the school down the road was not yet named Southeast Webster GRAND, but was no longer named Central Webster-Dayton.  Apparently plaid was really, really in style. I offer this class photo as evidence of that particular fashion trend (show yearbook photo).  You guys look a lot like lumberjacks, going into the woods to chop an oak to keep the cabin warm in the winter.    Another fashion trend I noticed was bib overalls.  Seriously—ladies—not a good look.

            Turning the page, we see the awards:  Let’s see:  Class Couple:  Chad Lambert and Chrissy Cramer.  Well—that one worked out.  Chad and Chrissy have now been married for 11 years and have 4 kids.  Chrissy is the elementary guidance counselor and my kids call her “Mrs. Lambert.”  I bet she’s a pretty cool counselor.

            Chad and Chrissy were the homecoming king and queen that year.  A few years back, Dave and Patty Cramer were named honorary homecoming king and queen at SWG.    I thought this had a certain nice symmetry to it. 

In 1995, the other candidates were Jodi, Rachel, Grant, and Jimmy Jennett.  Which one of these doesn’t really fit??  Wasn’t Jimmy the one that Jamie and Gina wrote a poem about their freshman year?  I tend to remember grading that, laughing my ass off, and then telling them it was inappropriate.   One Jimmy Jennett memory still gives me nightmares:  When he cut Ray Bass’ hair for his how-to speech.   I think he paid Ray five bucks and two video games for the privilege of showing the freshman “how to” give a Mohawk haircut.  I remember sitting there, as Ray’s hair dropped to the floor, thinking, “Bad idea—now I’m gonna have to talk to Eddie.  Poop.”  Speaking of poop, that was also the year that Kyla Hansen brought a dog to class for a speech and it pooped in the hall and Jim Brundage was FURIOUS with me.   My classroom was on the second floor of the old building and apparently Kyla’s dog had a little accident on the stairs. Oops.

            How many of you remember a speech you gave—or one given by your classmates?  I asked Gina what she remembered from my class and she said, “A lot is always two words” and “there is always a better word than got.”  Well—I guess that’s something.  What do you remember at your days as an Eagle??

            Bob Butrick was another member of the class of ’95 that is now also employed by the school.  He is the Behavior Interventionalist in the Burnside building and my daughter’s football and basketball coach.  His senior quote was “When you drop your keys into hot molten lava, just forget it man because they are gone.” Seriously Bob—someone who left that message for all eternity is now entrusted with the care and safekeeping of my only daughter??? Let this serve as a warning to today’s high school seniors:  choose your senior quote wisely for someday you may be asked to explain what the heck you were thinking.  And—yes, I did say that Bob is Josie’s FOOTBALL coach—that’s another story for another time.

            The other Behavior Interventionalist for SWG is Becky Davis, nee Vandi, also a class of 1995 member.  She married high school sweetheart Curt Davis, also a 95 grad.    She’s still a red head and still feisty and my kids love her.

            Jamie Liska’s senior quote was “If I’m going to get blamed for something, I might as well do it.”  Like:  If I’m gonna get blamed for dating my math teacher, I might as well go ahead and marry him.  Or something like that.

            On the faculty page of the yearbook, there is Andrew Everett—not smiling at all: Dan Fluckiger, who looks like he was just frightened:  Lori Ferrari, looking beautiful as always.  There is also a photo of Mr. Gilson, Mrs. Kalahar, and me dressed up like we are pregnant for Homecoming week.   I remember we wore matching maternity jumpers and used a beach ball for a pregnancy belly.  That was pretty clever if I do say so myself. 

            There’s also a shot of Joy Summers—remember her?  The special ed teacher who I always thought bore an uncanny resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West.  Summers was her married name—she married Oscar Summers who was the little league baseball coach for over a decade.   He used to practice in the old tennis courts and put money in the fence; if you hit the money with a ball you could keep it.    I remember the first day I met her.  Her name was Meister then and she stood up at the faculty meeting and introduced herself as Joy Meister.  Mr. Fluckiger literally fell out of his chair to stop from laughing.  “The Joy Meister” stuck as her nickname for the next five years.

            Ralph Johnson was your principal and Ted Lyons was your superintendent—making you plenty lucky indeed.   In all my years of education, I never encountered a team that could live up to the standards set by those two gentlemen. They loved kids and they believed in education and they were simply stand-up guys all around—a real class act.

            That was also the year of the Donkey Ball game in the gym.   Remember that?  Mr. Everett looked like he was ticked at the donkey and we actually felt sorry for the animal.  I got a question:  did anyone ever see that man smile??  I was somehow talked into riding a donkey for this fundraiser.  Mr. Theobald was the announcer and my nickname was “Kendra ‘my Cody is cuter than Kathie Lee’s Cody’ Breitsprecher.” 

            I keep flipping through the book and I see my personal favorite spread:  the speech pages.  I need to say something public:  Hey—Becky—I apologize for making you do that mime.  “This is your life, Suzy Starlight’??  What was I thinking?  That year Jodi Collen went to all-state with Shadd Scharf for a play entitled “The Kissing Scene.” They kissed like 25 times in 15 minutes.  I remember them wanting to practice all the time.    Jon Walker and Alyssa Corson went to all state that year too—so I’m thinking you had a pretty creative and successful class.  Alyssa continued acting after graduation, doing several plays at Iowa Central and then at Hawkeye Community Theatre.  We recently auditioned for “Steel Magnolias” together—She received the part of Shelby; I received . . . nothing . Not that I’m bitter or anything, but the student getting a part and the teacher getting the shaft does not seem right, does it? I am thinking she should make it up to me by baking me a cake.  In case you don’t now it, Alyssa has a home business were she bakes and decorates gourmet cakes for special occasions. I have used her service many times and all I can say is YUM. Serious—Alyssa—a snickerdoodle cake delivered to my house would go a long way in helping me forget the whole play audition incident. I’m just sayin.

            And—while I’m apologizing—sorry Lindsay for the Catwoman suit you had to wear in the dinner theatre that year.    We had “mimes of ceremony” that year and Becky had to do it again—this time with Holly and Jennifer Barkhaus.  Yeah—sorry again.

            Three of you were also selected for all-state choir:  Alyssa,  Nate Eslick, and Toki Selby.  Remember how thrilled Mr. Albert was?  He put little signs on your lockers.

            As I continue to flip through the annual, I turn to the prom page.  There’s me, Mr. Theobald, and Mr. Lyons after our Prom Speech Championship. In case you don’t remember, this is the one where I whipped of my dress and did a little dance number to a song I wrote about Aaron Check.  Bad idea.  Really, REALLY bad idea.  I’m thinking I’m going to be apologizing all night long.  Sorry Aaron. Sorry senior theatre class for making you help me.  Sorry everyone for making you watch it.

I remember Mr. McClure threatening to walk out of prom if I made any jokes about him.   So, I gave my “Barney” jokes to Mr. Lyons to make—not like McClure could yell at the boss.  Being prom sponsor with Mr. McClure—not so much fun.  I am pretty sure that if I would have been allowed to make my Barney jokes, I would have won the stupid prom speech competition and not come in a miserable third.

Rachel Shanahan and Grant VanGilder were prom king and queen that year—Grant looks freaking thrilled to be wearing that crown.  Gina and her date are featured on this page as well—although Gina looks beautiful in a white feathery dress, Tracy is wearing a Mickey Mouse tux.  Another bad fashion choice.

There’s a photo of Carlos Silva, the foreign exchange student.  Does anyone ever hear from him? 

1995 was the year Mr. Theobald took a bunch of kids to London, France, and the Riveria.  According to the yearbook, it was an eventful trip.  Apparently, Jamie and Amy Flickinger were flashed by a streaker,  Jodi Collen was locked in a cemetery, and Gina DeGroote broke the handle of her suitcase and held up the entire trip.

It was the first year of the Talon chapter of the National Honor Society, started by yours truly and Jodi Collen, who—coincidently—was one of the first inductees.  Hmmm . . .

The senior girls on the annual staff were Amy Flickinger, Jamie Liska, Gina DeGroote, Jodi Collen, and Holly Gilliland—which might explain why there are photos of them on every single page of the yearbook. Seriously, folks, according to the 1995 annual Gina is on the football page and Holly is in FFA.  Those girls were ACTIVE.  I also remember Gina and Jamie giving a speech at graduation and everyone being all worried about “what would those rebel girls say??”  Alas, they were very dignified and said nothing at all naughty.

Moving onto sports: wasn’t that the year without a softball coach? Didn’t Jodi set some sort of three-point record?  Didn’t girls’ basketball go quite a ways in the tournament and have a really good season?  Yeah—I didn’t pay that much attention to sports.  The only reason I even remember the Jodi/girls’ basketball thing is because it interfered with all-state speech!  The yearbook did say that Chad was an all-state linebacker in football—so that’s a good thing, right?

I do wish I had paid more attention to sports when I didn’t have kids and had more time. Now I have children in all sorts of sports and spend a great deal of time clueless—or asking annoying questions to people like Heidi about basic rules of the games.  It is kind of odd to be friends with people I used to tell to walk in the hall.

The yearbook ends with some personal notes from parents to their graduating seniors—and a sappy poem written by none other than Jodi Marissa Collen.   And I end this speech with a reminder that you all were part of something special in high school.  Not only did you have great friends and great memories, but you were taught by great teachers and led by great administrators. 

As most of you know, I no longer teach high school and the last five years of my life have been difficult, to say the least. I choose to view these years as a “blip” in an otherwise fantabulous life of education and service.

This may sound odd in a class reunion speech, but I hope that high school just a “blip” in your life—a wonderful, beautiful, magical blip, but a blip none-the less.  You are all way too talented and smart and beautiful to have the four years of high school be the highlight of your life.   And—I have no doubt that every single one of you are leading successful lives and have some great stories to tell—whether you have 14 kids like Chrissy and Chad or you have an exciting, unusual career like Jodi or you defeated cancer not once, but twice like Alyssa—or if you are just quietly working every day to make the world a better place—I am sure that the class of 1995 are indeed MAKING THEIR MARK.

Here’s to the class of 1995.  I can hardly wait to mingle with you all after this dinner and hear all about your lives and travels.  Here’s to another fantastic 15 years.