Ah, 1974, what a year! It was the year Nixon resigned (on my birthday, no less). Aaron broke Ruth’s home run record. Young people took to the streets running around “nekkid” in something called “streaking”. No matter how many times we told Ethel not to look, she did. It was also the year of the Famous Graduation of the Wheeler High School Class of 1974, which I might add, included a future first round draft pick of the Dallas Cowboys (Robert Shaw, you can look it up).
The class of ’74 was some class. In fact it was probably the last class of its kind at Wheeler, where most of the kids were born on the second floor of Kennestone Hospital. East Cobb was under going a nuclear population explosion back then. People were moving in from exotic places like Minnesota and Indiana. When I was in the 8th grade a new girl was introduced to a class I was in and she was from Massachusetts of all places! Her last name ended in a vowel! She was always “pahkin’ the cah’ in Havahd yahd’. You can imagine how hilarious that sounded coming out of our Southern accents.
For some reason, some schools like to hold graduation exercises outdoors. In Georgia, this does not make any sense. For one thing, June in Georgia is miserably hot just like it is July, August, and September. For another there is always the possibility of a killer electrical storm that pops up out of nowhere just to let us know what God can do. In 1974, Wheeler decided to hold its graduation outdoors on the football field which was then known as “The Football Field”.
The metal football bleachers, which had been in the sun all day, was filled to capacity with Moms, Dads, Brothers and Sisters. The ceremony began when The Class of 1974 marched out. Then just before the first speaker the mother of all electrical storms hit. It was not a light midst. It was a gully washer. It was a frog choker. Todd Nixon said “They told us beforehand that if it started raining, don’t start running across the field like a bunch of little old ladies.” Of all things to tell somebody: don’t run when it is raining. That’s public education for you.
In true Wheeler fashion, the graduates ignored what they were told to do and ran off of the football field as if they were running from Godzilla in Tokyo while wearing caps and gowns. Meanwhile, the Moms, Dads, Brothers and Sisters were still in the metal bleachers, in the middle of an electrical storm, getting soaking wet. My wife was one of those sisters.
The powers that be, (the ones that went to school to work in education and suddenly realized there was never a college course about what to do when there is storm of Biblical proportions at an outdoor graduation), decided to hold separate but equal ceremonies. The Lady Wildcats’ gowns had become transparent and there has never been anything as randy as a Mid-70’s Male Wildcat. It should not surprise you that the Lady Wildcats held their ceremony in the Library (better known as “The Lie Berry” as one Vice Principal would call it) and it was done in a dignified manner as possible with a room full of wet girls, teachers, and family. A teacher stood on top of a table and read the student’s name, the student walked up, received her diploma, and walked back to where she either standing or sitting.
It is also no surprise that the Wildcat men’s diploma ceremony was held in the cafeteria and that it was complete chaos. The students had their names read out and then the diploma was flipped to them “like a Frisbee”. One student said, “I wound up getting my diploma tossed to me by the wrestling coach. I will remember that till the day I die.”
Last year, current principal Dr. David Chiprany heard about this day and decided to give this class their due. He held a “re-graduation” at the school for The Class of ’74 last week. These now middle aged men and women, dressed in their high school caps and gowns, entered the auditorium to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” and got to listen to a couple of speakers. One was Judge Tain Kell, whose father was the legendary football coach at Wheeler. The other was Roger Hines, one of those rare teachers that actually cared. He told a great joke: “You might be a redneck if your children and grandchildren attend your graduation.” He also said, “We might have slung your diplomas at you like hamburgers on the Fourth of July, but you are loved.”
That was really the lesson. Sometimes circumstances conspire against you, but the people who love you will always try to do the best they can.
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