School Story:
Ok, so I wasn't the most popular guy in high school, but my Senior year, one of the popular girls took an interest in me, which was a huge surprise to me.
I asked her out--can anyone guess who it was? On our second date, I made the mistake of telling my friends, Rick Christensen, Gary Wagstaff, and Kevin Morgan (all from the class of 1981) about the date.
The date started out great. I was driving my Dad's huge gold-colored Chevy Impala, with a bench seat. My date cuddled right up to me on that bench seat--oh, was I in heaven. Life couldn't be much sweeter. But a mile or two into our drive, I see in my rearview mirror--a car filled with my friends. I was not amused. My date soon noticed that I was preoccuppied with looking in my rearview mirror. She turned her head to see my dorky friends, all hanging ouf of their car, waving their arms, and generally looking stupid. To my disappointment, she immediately left my side and began to hug the passenger car door. I was embarrassed, but now I laugh at the situation. Years later, one of my friends remarked that they were just jealous that I was dating someone so cute and popular.
I can't remember if I was a Junior or a Senior when I took an English class from Mr. Roper. Remember him? We called him Old Goat Roper. One day, Mr. Roper read to us a poem; it was about a mean old lady, who tormented her husband. I raised my hand in the middle of the poem, and Mr. Roper seemed genuinely pleased that someone had a comment about the poem. He called on me and I said something like: Hey Mr. Roper, the lady in the poem--is she your wife? He was so angry at me. He yelled at me, kicked me out of the class and told me to return after school.
I had never been kicked out of a class before, let alone, never had I been instructed to return to meet with a teacher after school was out. I was mortified. I realized that what I had done was funny and all--I got a bunch of laughs, but I wasn't so sure I wanted to deal with the ramifications. I also was afraid that Mr. Roper would say something to Principal Matthews, who was a family friend. I envisioned the principal talking to my parents, which scared me. So I went down to the Principal's office to talk with the Principal. That's right, I turned myself in.
I told him what I did, and he started laughing. He proceeded to tell me that Old Mr. Roper wasn't such a bad guy, and that I should go meet with him after school, apologize to him and talk things out.
I met with Mr. Roper that afternoon. He started yelling at me. He used foul language, which shocked me. I got mad also. I started yelling at him too. This went on for a few minutes, until he stopped us both, and said: Hey Steve, we're really not getting anywhere, why don't we stop yelling at each other, forget this ever happened, and move forward. I said that sounds good to me. Not another word was ever said, and I ended up liking his class and he was one of the few teachers I asked to sign my yearbook.
Anybody remember Greg Kuhni lighting a fire on his desk in Mrs. Hanson's English class? I think it was during our Sophomore year.
I remember a band trip we took when I was a Junior. We went to San Jose, California to play in a band tournament. Some of the band members got in trouble, because they went to the top floor of the hotel and were throwing glass ashtrays out the window.
On the same trip, we stopped in Fallon, NV and played a concert for one of the local Mormon Wards, in return, the Ward members offered us places to stay for the night. During a practice session early in the afternoon of the concert, a young child was wandering around the gym. I motioned to him to come to me, while I was playing the Tenor Saxophone, and I was seated with the rest of the band. He came over to me and was fascinated by the saxophone. I talked to him for a few minutes and then he left. Everyone was astonished when that night during the concert, the same little boy wandered over to me, and right during the concert, climbed up on my lap. The Ward members had a nice laugh.
Who remembers the way we would flick pennies? We could really zing them. On the last day of school, our Junior year, I learned that Mr. Paulson gave me a D in Algebra. I was mad. Later that day, I saw him lecturing in a class, as I was walking by his classroom. I zinged a penny at him and it hit his ear. I ran away before he noticed who threw it.
Fast forward to the frist day of class the next year. Mr. Paulson approached me in the hallway. He said, Steve, I tried to find you on the last day of school, last year, to tell you that I changed your grade at the last minute. I immediately thought--oh no, he found out about the penny and failed me. But no, he said, I changed your grade from a D to a C. I should have been relieved, but instead I felt like a heel, for having hit him in the ear with the penny. I wanted to confess this to him, but I didn't.
Mr. Paulson was a great guy, but I thought he was a horrible Algebra teacher. Once, in class I defied him, and challenged him to provide any proof that I would ever use algebra in the every day world. He either refused to do so or couldn't do it. Now, as I go through life I see tons of applicaitons of algebra all the time. I have since reflected on that class and thought how he missed an opportunity to teach us something practical about the subject. Oh well, I eventually figured out on my own that algebra was helpful.
Does anyone remember Ms. McKay? She had a classroom that didn't have any windows. Come to think of it, hardly any classrooms had windows. When the lights were turned off, it became pitch black inside. One day during History class, someone went to the front of the room and turned off the lights. We became wild and began to turn over desks and cause general mayhem, until Ms. McKay could make her way over to the light switch. We did this several times over the course of a week or so, until one day, we heard her fumbling in her desk drawer; she pulled out a flashlight, and yelled: stop right there! This put an end to our fun.
Who was it at our graduation, that stuck a hanger through his graduation cap, and strung the tassle up the hanger, and then had taken colored tape and wrote: Nuke Iran on it? Disrespectul, but funny.
We were so unruly at graduation, that BYU wouldn't let Timpview return to the Marriott Center for several years. I remember, that many of us had three or four marbles in our pockets and when we went to shake Mr. Bingham's hand (School District Administrator and Ronette Bingham's Father, and my Priest Quorum Advisor) we passed on the marbles. I asked him at a later time, what he did with the marbles. He said that he just started letting them fall on the floor.
The most significant event during my High School years took place at a Seminary Graduation dinner. My sister Anine (class of '79) choked on a piece of potato and would have died, had it not been for Jim Dixon. He performed the Heimlich Maneuver and the potato piece flew out of her mouth. I find it interesting that with all the adults in the room, it was a young man, not an adult that noticed the dire situation and who jumped in to help. Jim is a hero and I am ever thankful for what he did for our family. Thank you so much Jim.
I have tons of great memories from High School. I loved it. I was not always a class clown. I really did learn many things. I also am grateful to the faculty at Timpview, who didn't earn great pay, but sacrificed a ton, to serve us. Some of the people who made a difference in my life: Ms. Decker, Accounting; Mr. Olson, English; Mr. Roper, English; Mr. Billings, Band; Mr. Sorenson, Gym. To them all, I give a heartfelt thankyou.
