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Well , we made it. Contrary to our expectations, we urvived. Three
years of agony and ec ta y. Three years of books, pencils, cut slip , study
halls, locked bathrooms, cigarette smoke, tests, surprise quizzes, football ,
basketball , cafeteria food, Landi wedges, gym, paper airplanes, crowded
hallway , substitute , chewing gum, Mrs. Barry, fire drill , broken water
fountains, friend , enemie , lab notebooks, lab experiments, e say que -
tions, multiple choice, fill-in, matching columns, true-or-false, program
change , school rings, school plays, chool dance , term paper , hard
work, homework, slow work, no work. ...
Those were the days. Do you remember? Do you remember the
day-to-day joy and fru tration that were your life every day for three
years? Pause awhile. Think back. Think back to the day when you were
young and free and innocent, even though you didn' t think so at the
time. Picture once more the dark and dingy corridors of Yonkers High.
The peeling walls are only partially concealed by the mas of posters for
the Bulldog Bounce, the play, the newspaper, the G.O., Prism. Look!
There i your locker. What was that darn combination again? Ugh, what
a me s it is inside. "One of these days I' ll just have to clean it out ..."
People are all around you now, in mall groups, talking, arguing.
Snatches of conversation float your way ... down the hall, a transistor
radio plays soul music . . . a few boys go by, pushing and shoving one
another .. . the bell sounds. ... You pick up an armful of battered
textbooks and notebooks and allow yourself to be swept forward by the
rush-hour crowd toward your next cia s. You pass a few of your friends
going the other way. You think: What homework haven' t I done that I
should have? Good thing I have a study hall 3rd. I wonder what teachers
are absent today? . .. And another period begin . You settle down for a
nice, quiet daydream, being careful to maintain an attitude of attentive–
nes and keep your eyes open. Occa ionally you doodle in your note–
book to give the teacher the impression that you are listening. The door
to the hallway i open. You can hear Mr. Manello's tongue Ia hing at
some poor unfortunate, caught red-handed with a bag full of wedges.
Another sick person gives the Coke machine a good, swift kick. It i ju t
another day in Yonkers High School. Mrs. Gorman leads her cia sin belt–
ing out another round of " L'amour est bleu." Mr. Hender on get called
to the office. Dr. L itman says "Hence" for the twelfth time. Mr. Braun–
hut pau e for a sip of water before turning to the busines ection of
the
Times.
Mrs. Condit reminisces about covered wagons. Mr. Femia
makes another mistake. In the gym, Coach makes a nasty remark. Mr.
Hender on gets called to the office. Mr. Barnhard says: "Get me a note."
Mr . Pre tamo fills out another transcript. The odor of rotten eggs eeps
slowly from under Mr. Fowkes' door. In the boy room, omeone roll a
seven.
It
is just another ordinary day in Yonkers High School.
We each have our own memories of what constituted an average day
in Yonkers High. But even now, the e memories are beginning to blur. It
become harder and harder to differentiate specific incidents. Everything
seems to occur in regular, periodic cycles: the opening days of school,
football season, basketball eason, the midterms, the various vacations,
the Regents, and that va t wa teland of the days in between where we
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