The Reunion

I hadn't planned to go to this reunion at all.  I still felt really crabby about high school not being an especially great time in my life.  I felt like most of the time I was on the outside looking in.  As the reunion notices went out I noticed more and more people from my class getting on Facebook.  Gradually they began asking me to be their  friend.  Odd, I thought, since none of them had ever wanted to be my friend in HIGH SCHOOL.  But I agreed.  They starteed to make comments about my posts.  We began to ask about each other's posts and  I made a huge discovery.  It had nothing to do with them, all I would have had to do was to say hi and talk to them--it was me.  I never allowed the door to be opened to know all these great people--people, it turns out I have a lot in common with.

That door now being open I am--for the first time looking forward to seeing and spending some time with those old classmates.  It started out as a few people from the old neighborhood getting together for lunch, Steve, his wife Kayla, me and Madeline.  Another person said, "What  a great idea, can I come too?"  So we invited her, and another and another--until it was no longer the people from our old neighborhood but rather over 50 people from our graduating class.

I am so excited, many new friends, friendships established on who we are today with no pretenses from the past.  Our starting point--growing up in the same little town.  Thanks to Jere, Madeline, Steve, Elizabeth, Becky, Lindy, Debbie, Pam and all my  "New" Class of '70 friends.

The following is a poem I wrote in a literature class, in graduate school, about my school expereince.  I started to school in 1958.  It had been 12 years since the end of WWII and the country was in a police action with Korea.  Everyone was familiar with the order that the military gave their lives and that order carried into the schools. Conformity was THE RULE.  In 1958 I fell under this way of thinking.  I was not ordered or conformist in any thing I did.  Who knew that someday boys really  would wear red pants?  I was ............................

THE CREATIVE CHILD

The creative child

Knew all about school.

Her mom was  mommy

and a teacher too.

The first day finally came,

She was excited to go.

When dropped off early,

her fears stared to grow.

Will I fit in?

She wanted to know.

Who are these kids?

Any I know?

Mrs.Smith arrived

With keys in hand.

She looked at the child,

It was not as she planned.

She told the child

"Come in, sit down,

Take a desk to the back."

The child looked around.

Mrs. Smith like to follow the rules,

Otherwise she couldn't imagine just what they would do.

She had them color a boy in blue jeans

In the creative child's eyes they could be red too.

JEANS ARE NOT RED!

The child should have known

Mrs.smith gave an F

And said, "Take it home!"

On a big piece of paper

the children each drew

squares and circles, in red white and blue. 

Those were not the colors the creative child used.

She drew flowers

like Daddy had grown

She drew them in odd shapes

of flowers she'd known.

They were pink and purple

And some color unknown

Mr. Petmickey heard

the child humming

a popular tume.

This is ART child--!

No humming in school!

In the 4th grade Mrs. Crain

filled the children with dread,

"Daydream! Imagine!

Write what comes in your head!

Most of the children

Sat stiff and confused,

Their thinking was ordered

They needed some rules.

But the child loved the challenge,

She just couldn't miss,

She wished each day in school

Could be just like this.

Creativity was scary

They needed order back then---

So the creative child

Just never fit in.

                                                                 Jan Greenlee Hayes