High School Was Meant For Learning - And For Fun

There are just too many drooling bulldogs running around.

If you’ve ever been to a state tournament, you know what I mean.

Bulldogs everywhere.

You can’t take two steps toward a concession stand without running into one.

The omnipresence of the bulldog dominates everything from sporting events to marching band competitions like big hair in the 1980s.

Two packs of bulldogs lumber around in my high school’s league alone!

And this is the reason why at Freeman High School, we are proud to be Scotties - high energy, little black dawgs who tear around stirring things up and making a lot of noise.

As an ASB president once demonstrated by yipping into the microphone at a pep rally, we take a lot of pride in this analogy.

Small though we may be, we make a point to stand out. This is both our claim to fame and the driving force which leads us to do a lot of crazy things.

These things included, but were not limited to, our football team getting escorted onto the field with the highland tones of bagpipes.

By tradition, our marching band parades around in uniforms which include, among other things, plaid kilts, earning us the reputation as “the band with all the guys in skirts.”

At Freeman, however, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I think I speak for all graduating seniors when I say that four years at Freeman High School has been a time we couldn’t forget if we wanted to.

Here, credit must be given to our many fine educators, the men and women who sacrificed a measure of their sanity and years of their lives for the sake of getting us to learn something.

And learn we did.

After all, how better to understand the violent reaction of silver nitrate to water than to witness flames engulfing the floor, ceiling and countertops of the chem lab?

How better to grasp the concept of tardiness than by professional demonstration - something like the hokey-pokey in a classroom doorway?

No, we seniors won’t soon forget the many lessons we learned at Freeman.

We won’t soon forget those who taught us, either.

Freeman boasts a highly diverse and qualified faculty; each member graced the senior class with his or her own unique approach to education.

One rode a Harley. Another yodeled. Others exhibited unusual knacks for getting their teeth knocked out or flinging shoes across the gym.

Our principal could bench around 300 pounds - and the public knowledge of this information started a rapid decline in the number of referrals, which were none too high in the first place, as teachers often appeased us with Jolly Ranchers, Jelly-Bellies and even homemade birthday cake.

Who says learning isn’t fun? Besides, high school was just as much about fun as it was about learning.

As anyone who attended the junior prom knows, Freemanites never take anything too seriously. Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t a faux pas to dance the Funky Chicken in a tux.

Neither are mini Dr. Seuss hats inappropriate attire for a state basketball tournament.

Don’t be afraid to join the rest of the lunchroom in a chorus of “Alvin and the Chipmunks” just because you can’t sing, and if you ever want to put your generosity to the test, try buying a round of cheeseburgers for a busload of starving teenagers.

Ah, the memories.

According to the old folks and the greeting card industry, memories are the stuff life is made of. So let’s all just pause here for a moment of nostalgia. Football games. Homecoming. Driver’s licenses. Prom. Caps and gowns. All-nighter dorm parties. Oh wait, that’s next year.

And as we all look ahead to those college years, to cutting loose and then suddenly realizing we should be studying instead, only one thing remains certain. We can be sure that when we’re pulling out of the parking lot after graduation, glancing back at Freeman High School one last time, there will be Moser, our beloved custodian, sweeping up the big mess we left behind.