So, what's your Kendrick story?

Beneath our picture of what happened in high school, there is the truth of what actually happened. Sometimes, we heard of an event second-hand, sometimes we saw it ourselves, coming away with an impression that may be half the story.

The story goes that I, your friendly neighborhood webmaster, was unfairly forbidden to graduate with my fellow classmates because I had a beard. But when you peel back the surface of any story, it rarely remains a tale of heroes and villains. It just becomes a story of people with conflicting needs, priorities, and concerns.

I'd like to hear all your stories and memories, funny, sad or just, after all these years, still puzzling. Here is mine as I remember it, however accurately or inaccurately.*

Eventually, high school ended, but appropriately, not without incident. I had grown a beard (gasp!) to play Petruchio in “Taming of the Shrew” for drama class. Today, it would be nothing. In 1970 it was a toehold by the hippie movement. It was a nice beard, neatly trimmed. The administration let this slide, but were understandably getting a little impatient when the beard lingered weeks after the curtain fell. I was called into the principal’s office and asked to have a seat.
 
Apparently, principal T____ was expecting some sort of ruckus and felt the need for reinforcements or witnesses. In addition to the head honcho himself, the vice-principal and all the guidance counselors had been called into service. All sat looking at me grimly and warily, yet with plastered-on expressions that were intended to say, “Let’s all be reasonable, shall we?”. All were carefully positioned higher than my eye level, the principal himself towering above me. I suppose it would have been poor form to remind them that, historically, the king sits while everyone else stands. I was in enough trouble.

They tried a number of approaches. Mrs. G_______, the women’s guidance counselor, went for the ego. “But why do you need a beard? You have such a handsome face.” 

I knew better. Without a beard, my face reminded me of a potato; I don’t know why. I explained that I had always felt there was something wrong with my face. But when I saw myself with a beard, it finally felt like I had found what was missing, that this was how I was meant to look, and my appearance felt complete now.

That rationale, naturally, impressed no one.

They tried fear. Mr. T_____ spoke in a gentle, confidential I’m-just-trying-to-help-you tone. 
 

“I’ve heard that some of the football players are thinking about holding you down and shaving you.” He shrugged helplessly. “If that happens, I can’t be responsible.”

I responded in what I hoped was an equally sympathetic tone. “I understand, sir, but I’m afraid my mother’s attorneys would feel differently.” I threw in a little shrug of my own. 

There was a moment of startled silence. I had confounded them with politeness at every turn. Having run out of options, the principal pulled out his trump card.

"David, graduation is coming up, and if you don’t shave, we’re not going to be able to let you graduate with the other students.”

That was the moment I went wrong. My lifelong stubbornness abruptly shoved me down the wrong fork in the road.

“I understand, sir, but I think I’m going to keep it.”

There was a pause. It was now obvious to everyone that a line in the sand had been drawn and crossed. Suddenly, everything was simple for them. Mr. T____ nodded with what might have been genuine sadness.

“If that’s your decision, David. You can go back to class now.”

The following weekend, my girlfriend, Deborah, and I were sitting on the edge of her front porch, our legs dangling over the side, discussing everything that had happened.

“Well, I have some good news for you,” she ventured  slowly. Her quiet, melancholy tone did not sound at all like good news. “You don’t have to worry about shaving.”
I laughed. “Because I’m not graduating, right?” She look startled.

“Who told you that?”

I remember smiling. “No one had to.”

I had made it easy for them. Despite my best efforts, I had a low grade in mechanical drawing that could have gone either way, a D or an F, and that was all that was needed. There had just been too much math. All my life, my brain had fainted when encountering anything more complex than division by two places. Even that intimidated me. The F meant I would fail the grade and not graduate. Problem solved.

I still went to Columbus College for a while, having gotten a diploma from Hallie Turner High School, which specialized, I suppose, in second chances.

To this day, some of my classmates think I was treated unfairly. But you have to understand the times. I had a chance to graduate with the class of 1970, but turned it down, for reasons that now seem silly. This is not surprising. You and I are like rivers. The water in the river is constantly being replaced by different water, but the river remains the river. We change, but remain ourselves. Given who we are in each moment, we do the best we can. 

So what's your story, classmates?

* (From the book, INKLINGS: A Log of the Lucid Moments)

Comments, positive or negative, eagerly hoped for.

WEBSITE DONATIONS

SUCCESS!! We have received enough from several of our generous classmates to secure the website for another 10 Years to February 06, 2027!! If any "extra" donations are received they will be sent to the committee to either be sent back or used for our 50th reunion.  Thanks again to all those classmates that helped us with this.

Welcome to the Kendrick High Class Of 1970 web site!  
 

If you are a KHS Class of 1970 Alumni, Please go to "Classmates Profiles" and Enter your information. If you are not on the class list, email us at the "contact us" link. If you want to keep your information private or need help entering it, please contact the website administrator.

Keep checking the site for upcoming events / get-togethers. Be sure to visit the chat room and forums often to keep in touch and let us know how you are doing.

Also...If you have any information (no matter how obscure) that might help us locate missing classmates, please contact the site administrator.