I went to a very nice high school. It was back in the dark ages, you know when our parents didn’t have a clue as to the horrible things we did or frankly just didn’t give a shit. I look back now as a parent and think of how many levels of loosing my mind I would free fall through if my children did 1/8th of the things I did. All in all it’s a miracle any of us survived. It was the 80’s in Florida just a short jaunt from Daytona where I received more education than Dear old THS could have ever taught me. MTV had recently came out and they played music videos, no seriously they used to do that. It was the time of Big Hair bands, and Break Fast Club.
Just like Breakfast Club everyone was in a click and just like Breakfast Club everyone partook in the occasional wacky tabacky. Even the Brains, the Jocks and the Princesses. We had stoners and they were funny but the majority of us would never have done something so forward as to own it. Or so I thought. I guess in all my clueless fun filled skipping partying days I had no actual gauge on reality. I went to a very nice school, that was so much fun it should have been a TV show. Constant pranks and passing through the parking lot to take a swig of alcohol in your trunk was par.
So there I am in Mrs G. art class aka time to listen to your walkman while she has her back to the class for an hour. Some slept, some left the class unnoticed and slipped back in and many drank alcohol during this class, disguised in a 7/11 big gulf cup filled with sprite and md 20/20.
All was peaceful and virtually perfect in our little kingdom or happiness until the day the proverbial shit hit the fan.
Word came down from an office aid that Our Principal was going to let the new drug dogs come to our school to show what a perfect school we were. Oh how he viewed us with Rose colored glasses. This meant 1 thing serious TROUBLE.
I immediately warned the stoners in the class, and then 3 underclassmen with instructions to get everyone, anyone who has anything and meet me in the parking lot. I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble, unlike breakfast club our click lines were not solid we would all fade into the other clicks seamlessly and in general everyone got along.
We hit every classroom sometimes like mission impossible spies and sometimes like rats diving off a sinking ship. It was organized chaos with a singular purpose. Students were getting called out of class by other kids, locker combinations are shared, car ashtrays are being dumped it’s insane, sneaking special ops insane. I thought we may end up with a baggie or 2 to be disposed of but oh man did I think WRONG. We ended up with what was closer to a friggin hefty sack, where on earth could we put this.
The light bulb goes off, everyone is to dump everything under our Dear Principals car. Not in it, but under it. A virtual running firemans brigade was set up and the offending plant was quickly planted. Directly under Mr M’s car.
We all washed up and snuck back in our classrooms. ( why is snuck not a word? well it is now damn it) We all waited, wondering if everyone from the Valedictorian to the Long haired stoner had properly rid every last seed and roach from every crack and crevice. For the first time ever at our school, all you heard were the teachers teaching. While our hearts beat out of our chests and everyone palms were a little more than moist.
Then they came, like 4 legged lie detectors with gianormous teeth like a freaking Pterodactyl . Down one hall, barking at nearly every other locker, one poor soul was coming out of the bathroom when the vicious animal alerted on his crotch. A few of the alerted lockers were searched and the poor crotch kid was found to be ok. But the dogs were clearly going wild in every inch of our school and nearly every person. Our dear Principal smiled with each unfounded alert, thus boasting to the Police what a fine school we had.
Then as they were headed to the front to leave, the dogs lost their shit. When I say lost their shit I mean they went friggin insane, gnashing teeth, guttural barking and dragging their handlers like water skiers behind a boat. The bell had rang and we were all out to watch as the entire K9 ensemble alerted like mad at our Principals car.
They looked underneath at the virtual ganja buffet laying on the pavement under Mr M’s car. Amazed, dumbfounded and slightly pissed.
Slipping on his rose colored glasses our Dear Principal made the deceleration that this was clearly a joke by a rival school to make us look bad. The police took our party favors. Our reputation of the “Good” school remained intact. It wasn’t a farce, we had no fights, we had very little discipline and we all were able to work together. Now if our damn Football team could just win a game.
Woof.
PEACH OUT…