Most memorable yearbook moments

I graduated long before Jackson Browne became any kind of celebrity. But "Jackson Brown" found his way into our yearbook. His name was under a mug shot of a guy whose real name was Tony Brown. Jackson Brown was in lots of captions, including a nameline under a photo of the principal and under a photo of the baseball team's batting coach. In an editor's note in front of the book, the guy who was editor wrote: "This was an undertaking I will never volunteer to do again, but I want to thank everybody who helped me, especially Jackson Brown, who always seemed to provide a solution to any problem we had."
As for reunions, mine have all been a blast. The last one we had was in 2000 and it was at the police academy. Several guys didn't show up because they feared they wouldn't be allowed to leave.
We didn't have one in 2005 because the guy who usually organized 'em said it is just too hard to track down everybody. Maybe we should hire Frank to help. But we had more than 1,000 in our class.

 

Cadet, are you still in high school? All this Ms. H and S and J stuff has me all sorts of confused. It's like reading an eye chart in the middle of a block of words -- with exclamation points.

Stupid MySpace.

I don't remember having weasels in my class, though I don't know if I even looked at every non-portrait photo. The only thing I remember doing, outside of signing and reading quotes, was scrolling through the rows of photos and proclaiming which ones I'd "do." That kept me busy for an entire study hall.

 

High school was a gigantic waste of time. So much bullshit, and for nothing.

 

I remember for my junior high yearbook, I set aside a large part of the inside cover for a girl I took to a dance that year, assuming she'd have a nice comment or two to add. She takes a second or two to write, and in the middle of all that space, there is merely her signature. And a shitload of white space. Talk about your reality check.

 

Ouch. But that's par for the course for Mikey.

 

Yeah, I know I'm necroing this thread, but this post reminds me of my junior year in high school. The school announced its perfect attendance awardees at the end of the school year. At that point, I hadn't missed a single day of school. I came in late one day and got dismissed because I was going to a funeral. But I was there every day.

Anyway, my name wasn't on the perfect attendance list because I wasn't in school or at a school sponsored activity every minute of the school day. Even my mother bitched about it.

 

Had a guy that sat next to me in geometry class that had some pretty neat handwriting. So I started to ask him to write me notes to get out of class for various doctor or dental appointments. (back then, all you had to do was sign out and leave, they didn't call your house to tell your parents you were out that day, like they do now around here)

So, when I just wanted to leave campus and go see my GF during lunch or something, or didn't have my homework done for a certain class, I'd ask this guy to write me a note to get me out of class, always careful enough to make the timing so I'd conveniently miss whatever class I didn't want to go to.

So, he decided to sign my yearbook "To whom it may concern--Please excuse my son, Cubman 71 at (insert time) so that he may go to his doctor appointment. Thank you, Cubman 71's mom"

Mom was reading through all the sigs that summer, saw it, and asked me about what it meant. I just told her the guy had a warped sense of humor.

I think I missed a bunch of classes that year

 

I can remember wanting to go to the senior class breakfast when I was in Maine. My mother wasn't going to sign the permission slip (since I was 17, I couldn't just sign a waiver form and go) and my classmates were suggesting I forge my mother's signature.

The class advisor called me over from class to ask about having me go along. I said "don't bother" because I figured my mother wasn't going to allow me to go (I was in trouble for something I don't remember anymore). The school secretary ended up calling my mother in spite of overhearing my answer and talked my mother into letting me go to the breakfast.

If I were in enough of a pinch, I probably could have forged my mother's signature. Her handwriting and mine are pretty similar.