JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - The junior class of SWCS (Class of '67, now) merited their own page in our yearbook.
Ok, it wasn't our yearbook, it belonged to the school. But how many of you bought a yearbook every year? I don't see many hands out there? I think I did get one when I was in 7th grade. ("Cherish those memories," my mother probably said when she handed me the cash to buy one. I don't cherish a single memory from 7th grade. Sorry, Mom.)
The photo with today's blog reminded me that when we were seniors, juniors well, seemed sooooo junior to our exalted status.
For me, that exalted status was largely political as I remember being thumped on the wrestling mat rather thoroughly by a few juniors. And out on the track, there were a couple of juniors who gave me good races in the 220. And in French? Jaysus! Or should I say, "Mon Dieu?"
But age segregation was the rule of law, unless you slipped up and were held back for a year. I notice that in one junior home room photo, Art Johnson is standing in the back row, but I'm sure he was in our classes for most of our high school years.
In California, in many schools there's much more mix-and-match going in all classes, all dependent on the student's ability.
That would have had me graduate in 1964 in some subjects. In math, I might still be sitting in class on the Hunt Road campus. I believe I have a nightmare about that from time to time.
But remember how quickly all that senior-junior stuff changed a few years after graduation? Suddenly, the juniors weren't part of another caste.
In 2006, we can look forward to all those juniors picking up their Social Security checks just a year behind us. And they probably are getting hip replacements, face lifts and buying Rogaine at a clip very close to that of exalted seniors.
But those sophomores... Well ... Will they ever catch up?
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