On this windy Saturday after Easter, I sit in my house typing a blog that will be very UN Mary-like and tell you all about my visits to the office as a high school senior...
My husband has the kids at batting practice after we spent the morning building fence, and I purportedly stayed behind to tie up some fence along the back stretch...I'm getting to it! I'm getting to it!
Have I ever told you I loathe softball? We were on a roll! We got the back fence up! We got 75 percent of the East fence up! And BAM!! It's time to go practice batting...Anyhoo. I am not a fan of softball...
So here's the scenario. I'm a senior. I am superior to all things beneath me...Namely underclassmen. I am a "good" kid who never gets into trouble. The vice principal is one of my very best friend's dad. He is big and scary looking with a booming voice. But I've known him forever and have no fear of him. It is first period, and I am in Coach Wright's American History class. This means it's basketball season, because Coach Rundell and he split the year. Rundell taught football season, Wright taught basketball. At least that's how I think it went. Anyhoo, I'm in American History. A voice comes over the intercom:
"Coach, I need to see Andrea in the office."
I get up out of my desk, smile and shrug at my classmates and gleefully miss out on one of my least favorite classes. I flung open the office door, "Hi Mr. Mills! What's up?"
"Why are you parked in the grass at the VoAg building?" That's vocational agriculture for you nonrural folk...
"There was nowhere else to park!"
"What do you mean, 'nowhere to park.' There's half a parking lot empty out there!"
"That is the SOPHOMORE parking lot. Only they don't seem to realize they are supposed to park there as all of them have STOLEN the senior parking spaces, and left me no choice but to park across the street at the Ag building."
"Jonesy. There is no ASSIGNED parking here. Go move your car. Now."
And I smiled hugely at him (I had suspected this may happen) and moved my car to the underclassmen's parking lot, grumbling under my breath the whole way. The nerve of those sophomores! Anyone who had went to school there any amount of time understood the parking rules. Seniors get first pick on the north parking lot, then juniors, but NEVER sophomores. They had to park on the south parking lot. It's where they BELONGED. I mean really, if the faculty is not going to reinforce obvious social rules, what will the world come to?
I think I made it back to the tale end of history, the bell rang, and I happily headed to zoology.
Fast forward a few weeks.
Same scenario as before:
"Coach, please send Andrea to the office NOW." Wow. He sounded a little more firm over the intercom that time.
I bebopped my cheerleader uniform clad self right into the office. "Hi Mr. Mills! You wanted to see me?"
"Andrea why is your car in the teacher parking lot?"
"Mr. Mills, I HAD NO CHOICE!! The parking spaces were all gone, and I come from that direction. And it was raining. And I was nearly late for school. All of the SENIOR parking spaces were gone! Rather than risk being tardy for class, I parked in the nearest parking space available!" And I silently added that supposedly there are no assigned parking spaces...."And, Mr. Mills, what if my mom needs to go somewhere? My car is right there handy for her. She can take it to run any errands she might need to run... Really when you think about it, it was the most practical choice for me to make."
"Jonesy. I'm telling you one more time. Move your car."
"Okay, sir, but really SOMEONE has to teach the youngsters their place. I worked hard to earn my parking space in the SENIOR parking lot and all of those dumb sophomores think they can just slide right into the upperclassmen's spaces!"
"Move your car."
Don't you know I was on that man's last nerve?
You see, poor Mr. Mills didn't have to tolerate my cheekiness only at school. Oh no. TeNille and I were great friends, and during any sporting season, I was often at their house killing time before the bus left to take us to the game, be it basketball, or football. And he drove the bus to these games. Poor man. There was truly very little reprieve from me! You see, we lived 26 miles out of town, so it made no sense for me to drive home then turn right around to come back for a game, or to ride the bus to an away game. That meant I had to find a place out hang out until time to leave.
I knew when to cut my losses. I gave him my most winning smile and said, "Sure thing, Mr. Mills. I'll see you tonight after school!"
And I flounced my self right out of there and moved my car.
Sadly, justice was not served my senior year. The sophomores never learned their place in the world.
And I was never given the respect I deserved based on my senior-itis...
THERE!! Your burning curiosity is satisfied. I am off to tie up off some fence.
Perhaps tomorrow I will tell you all about how to skip class and never get in trouble for it!
Because, clearly I was a "good" kid.
At least on paper.