A Senior Prank From Long Ago Becomes a Tradition
I had to chuckle when I read about the kids in Gahanna placing a Big Boy likeness on the roof of their school. When reading about the forklift and manpower needed to rescue Big Boy from his perch and return him to his rightful place, I couldn’t help but wonder how those kids got him up there. They certainly didn’t have access to the equipment that took him down.
And then, I remembered the senior prank of 1968 and how the adults in our lives hadn’t a clue as to how a bunch of us plunked down a boulder that easily weighed who knows how much in the middle of the grassy oval encircled by our high school drive. I wasn’t involved in the placing of the rock, but my best friend Beth and I had a ringside seat as to what transpired later.
When we arrived at school that day, we were greeted by this purple behemoth outside the school doors. Everyone was wondering how in the world it got there and who had put it there. We, in the senior class, of course, suspected the usual gang of players, Mike, Barney, Charlie, Zarlengo, and a girl named Stan. Our class was always into equal opportunity. But, back to my ringside seat to the unfolding show. Beth and I had a class on the first floor at eye level with the oval. It was called Home Management or something like that and was for students that had all the credits they needed to graduate but wanted another “A’ under their belts. Needless to say, boredom was the word of the day.
So when Beth nudged me, I immediately turned my head to see what had caught her attention. Lo and behold, there was our esteemed principal, “Howie” as we so affectionately called him when he was not in earshot, circling the huge boulder warily. To this day, I can see him gingerly eyeing that rock up and down, but I still have no clue as to why he would up and kick something so hard and with such vehemence. It was like he wanted it to sail into the sky, so he wouldn’t have to deal with it any more. Obviously, he thought it was one of the papier mache “rocks” that had been showing up everywhere inside the school.
Each year, the junior class sponsors the Junior Senior prom. This year’s class theme was “Subterranean Gardens” Hence, the dayglo “rock” garden throughout the school. I always wondered if the sophomore class was irreparably harmed by having to wear those caveman outfits. The junior class sponsored and paid for the prom and banquet, the sophomores served as the waitstaff for the banquet and the seniors reaped the rewards of having done it the year before for that senior class. It fostered a sense of community and collaboration that I think is missing today with these “over the top” expensive things we call “proms” . But, I digress. Maybe some day I will relate how the banner from “Riverboat Rhapsody” showed up at our tenth year reunion and how it has made it to every class reunion since that one. But, right now, back to the school prinicipal hopping around the oval holding his foot and howling in pain. By this time, everyone in our class had abandoned their seats and stood looking out onto the scene aghast knowing that our class will again know his wrath.
We realized that there was no sense in denying that members of the senior class had been involved because scrawled across the face of the rock was the phrase “Class of ‘68″. What we didn’t know was Barney had taken care of damage control. We had had a love-hate relationship with our principal since we were freshmen and it had only been getting worse as graduation loomed closer. He would be glad to see the doors close on our class, but no more than we would be glad to be shed of him and his arcane rules and regulations that we never seemed to be able to get right. For instance, what is so wrong with adding a rock in a grassy oval that earlier that week had nothing but grass and a mud hole where the rock now sat. A lot of schools have rocks that rival schools paint and classes paint, and back and forth and on and on.
But, no. Not for our school. Nothing new and different and certainly not something that our class would leave behind as a gift. Not fifteen minutes later, he was on the PA system vowing to find those responsible and demanding others to turn them or the senior class would pay for the damage done. As far as we could see there was no damage except to his ego, and that was his own fault. Barney was the only one of us who kept his cool during this tirade. Apparantly, he had known we would need some press about the event if they were going to stay in school and the rest of us were not going to have to pay for the removal of the rock, essentially, cancelling our Senior Party. The press heeded Barney’s call and The Daily Record photographer arrived in the nick of time.
Each year the senior class gives a gift to the school in appreciation of our education and years at the institution. Our class had given our “senior” gift when we were freshman along with the other three classes that year. We bought the sign that sits in front of the school. Each year, the principal suggested we buy something else for the school. I had been the class treasurer our freshman year and was the one who always piped up at class meetings that we had already given our “senior” gift. One year we gave in and bought “lounge” furniture for the lobby hoping to keep the rest of our money for a Senior Class Party. Who knew that the rock that had nestled quite comfortably in a creek bed would serve as probably the greatest gift we could have given to our school.
Nearly forty years later, “grunk” still sits where he was placed in 1968. Over the years, benches and a brick paths have joined him as well as trees, shrubs, and flowers. And, periodically, another school sneaks in and splashes him with their colors, but it isn’t long before he returns to his bright purple color. And so, he stands as a reminder to adults who deal with teenagers that sometimes it is okay to reconsider the “rules” and the “order” that is needed because you may just create a bond that survives across the years, and what some considered a “prank” just might be come a “tradition”.
May 20th, 2007 at 9:38 pm
You must read (if you haven’t) John Irving’s book “A Prayer for Owen Meany”. The prank described in this story was repeated widely apparently — once at Kent State while my husband was there (long before the book was written and published).