Not Graduating

68

The last week and a half of Senior year was effectively just a full day study hall for us as they wanted to get the final grades in and confirmed ahead of time before the graduation ceremony occurred Wednesday of the following week. The first couple days of this was us trading our yearbooks back and forth for signings. This would have been a good time to play games on the computers at the school, but I'm glad I couldn't as it assured I didn't spend my last days hidden in a closet while the rest of Senior class had its final social fest. Twelve years. And if you include all the years I'd been going to any school with some of these kids, Fourteen!

I did have a panicked moment the previous week as it suddenly occurred to me that, given the number of classes I'd withdrawn from and failed this year that I might not have enough credits to graduate, but looking over all my past years and totaling up the credits, I found I'd be fine. I had become such a class-taking over-achiever toward the end of my Sophomore year and all through my Junior year that I had gotten most all of the credits I needed to graduate before my Senior year. In retrospect, had I known this, then I would have demanded taking the 'Civics' course during my Junior year as I had originally wanted, thus I probably could have been done with High School by the first quarter of this year. Too late to worry about it now. As long as I passed the final quarter of 'Civics' class, I was free and clear. With the gaps left from the withdrawn math and Spanish classes, I even had additional English quarter credits to spare!

As the end of the final full week came, year books were filled and we faced the challenge of where we were going to sit as we visited for the hours of the day: Library area for a couple of hours? Shoot some hoops in the gym? Let's sit in the cafeteria for the last few hours of the day! All this time in the background was the Death March. Names of Seniors were called over the intercom, about one per hour, as they were beckoned to the office. These were the students being informed that they were not going to graduate. Most of the time these names were no surprise as they would include students who would never show up to school anyhow and thus their name would be called again and again between the names of those who were here. One surprise was the son of the music teacher; after his name was called we didn't see him again. We soon heard that his father had rushed him to the nearest G.E.D. testing location so he would be done with High School one way or the other, though still wouldn't be able to participate in the graduation ceremony itself. Hell, a lot of us weren't planning on putting on the cap and gown and participating in that. No great loss.

We were sitting in the cafeteria for our final Friday, chatting, and my name was called. A hush fell over the table as everyone assumed what it meant. Even me, despite my having gone over my numbers earlier and finding them fit. Even me. I rose from my chair at the end of the table and walked to the office. With each step my mind raced: Had there been anything I'd missed? If not, then that meant I'd flunked the final quarter of 'Civics' class: A required class, if not passed one couldn't graduate. But I thought I'd been doing better in that class for this final quarter...

Arriving at the office I was ushered into the conference room where the guidance counselor sat. He told me to close the door behind me. I did, then immediately asked: ''Was it Civics class?''

He knew exactly what I was asking and said, ''No.'' Then I rattled through the rest of the classes I had been taking during the final quarter and to each it was, ''No.'' I had passed all my classes and yet had gotten called to the office? Was there some other reason I'd been called in to the office for? ''No.''

''Then what?'' I asked, dumbfounded. The guidance counselor gave me the explanation of why I wasn't graduating: I had failed Basic Composition, a required class for my Sophomore year. ''Yes, but I took it and passed it in my Junior year,'' I shot back. True, but when one fails that class, they need to take an additional English class along with it to make up for failing it the first time. ''But I have spare English credits,'' I pointed out. Yes, but they weren't the right type of English class credits. There was a specific class type that needed to be taken and as I hadn't taken it in the past two years, I wasn't going to be graduating now... My jaw dropped at this bizarre situation as I asked what type of English class was it? A literature class. Had they caught it soon enough then I could have taken 'Science Fiction Lit' this quarter and graduated. ''But I read Science Fiction all the time...'' I returned. That may be, but you didn't take the class. Sorry. Next.

I walked out of the office and meandered back toward my friends sitting in the cafeteria. I had no clue what to say. As I came to my empty end seat, I spontaneously kicked it and, as if I was dreaming and this wasn't reality, it made a beautiful arc while staying completely level from where our table was, down the empty aisle between tables to make a perfect four point landing at the end of the cafeteria around thirty feet away. It was an impossible kick, and yet I had done it. Everything was no longer making sense. My friends were looking at me with straight faces, more interested in what I'd been told rather than noticing the chair. How could I tell them that an oversight from my Sophomore year of High School was why I wasn't going to be graduating? ''I'll think of something,'' I told them but knew I had nothing.

''Get that back,'' the cafeteria monitor said about the chair. I went and carried it back to the table of my friends and sat down as they talked about other things.

For some reason my not as older brother was on leave and back in our home town for a few days. Staying with my eldest brother and his wife, I had already been invited to join them after work for a visit. An evening of bagging groceries immediately after school then I hopped on my moped and drove to my eldest brother's current place. This was the closest he had lived to the family home since he had been disowned eleven years earlier. A small house that had been added onto again and again over the century, it had an odd linear feel to the rooms. At the far end was the sitting area of futons or platforms with cushions tossed on top. We sat there and my not as older brother talked about his work in the military as my mind just zoned-out about the fact that I wasn't graduating. Eventually the talk turned to asking me how things were going, it would have been a great question at the beginning of the school year, but now all I had to say was, ''I'm not going to be graduating.''

This caused a quiet moment, then the echoed question, ''You aren't going to graduate?''

''No. They just told me this afternoon,'' and that seemed to be the end of that topic.

After nine o'clock, I took my leave and went home.

My paternal grandfather had returned from snowbirding by May and my father and his girlfriend had taken up returning home for dinner and to watch T.V. with him during the evenings. I just went straight to my bedroom and lay there until I fell asleep.

Saturday was my final full day at the grocery store until my summer break, then our final Dungeons & Dragon's session for the school year that evening. Sunday morning I got a surprise phone call from Van, he and Luke were going to see that new Spielberg movie and were wondering if I'd want to come along and I did. Van picked me up and we made small chit-chat during the drive, but ignored the big issue. We picked up Luke then continued the rest of the way to the capital city where we saw E.T. The Extraterrestrial. It was a nice enough movie, but for some reason my mind was on other things during it. Afterwards we found a sandwich shop and ate, then got on the road back to our homes. I'm sure we talked of various things during lunch and the drive back, but I can't for the life of me remember what.

When I got home, my father and his girl friend, Lois, had taken the night off so Pappy was back in his apartment for the evening and I had the house to myself. I went to my bedroom, lowered the computer keyboard and placed the writing board over it and began writing my heart out about the whole 'Not Graduating' situation. I noted the unfairness of it all with the bit that the guidance counselor had told me in my Sophomore year that he'd get back to me if there was any problem with my not passing Basic Composition the first time. I added my dismay that he apparently meant he'd get back to me four days before graduation. Five pages written in pencil over three hours, I read it and realized it was pretty good but could be tightened-up. For the first time in many years, I went from a rough draft and made a final copy in pen, cutting out about a page worth of whining and focusing on the facts.

Going to school the following morning, I left it unsigned in the Principal's inbox. Van caught me in the hallway as I walked out and told me he was going home after his gown fitting and wondered if I wanted to join him for a trip to his house and lunch. Sure, I waited in the cafeteria until he was done, then we left.

The visit to his house was a nice change of pace than just sitting at the school waiting out the final days as we had been the whole previous week. His mother was there and made us some sandwiches. We played a little in his front yard, I think it was with a Frisbee, and then we hopped back in the car to return to the school to pick up some stuff.

Barely before I even made it in the front door of the school, classmates were coming out to get me. They had been calling my name over the intercom for the past few hours I had been at Van's place and the staff had been going to each student asking them if they knew where I was. Well, I was now here, so I went to the office to find out what the fuss was about. The office staff was excited to see me and I was rushed into the Principal's office, the guidance counselor was there with the Principal.

He had read my note from his inbox and had been inspired to look into the facts, guess who it was that had left it, and see if what I said had been true. After he confirmed it, they had brain stormed to find what they could do and, since I was already familiar with Science Fiction, they decided that I could take the Final of the 'Science Fiction Lit' class. If I passed it, they'd grant me the quarter credit I needed and I'd be graduating with the rest of my classmates. I could do the Final at home that evening, but I needed to have it in by eight fifteen the next morning for it to be graded and my graduation confirmed. I agreed with this plan and they handed back my four page letter and was told to find the 'Science Fiction Lit' teacher to discover what the Final was.

It turned out it was with the English teacher who had been so impressed with me during my Junior year and stunned by my decline during my Senior year. I had actually taken two English classes with her in the preceding two quarters and had improved from my failed second quarter class with her. The further irony was during the fourth quarter I had 'Reading For Leisure' with her and had spent my time reading and doing reports on various Science Fiction books of my choosing. I found her in the teacher work area and mentioned I had been sent to her to find out what the Final was. Essentially, I had to write a book report on one of a selection of Science Fiction books. I looked over the list and found that I hadn't read any of them already. So I picked the Arthur C. Clark one: Bicentennial Man. The school didn't have a copy I could borrow, but I was sure my father had one in his Science Fiction book collection.

Van greeted me outside the office area and asked what was up? By now, the rest of my classmates had long since gone so it had been nice for him to hang around. I told him about the plan that they'd let me graduate if I turned in a book report. He was stunned, but thought it was great and offered me a ride to the grocery store for our afternoon's work. Still holding my four page letter in my hand, I tucked it into the fold of the car's bench seat during the drive, then after work I walked home across the hayfield and had dinner with dad, Lois, and Pappy. My father, as seemed always the case, was oblivious to what was going on in my life and never asked any questions. Once done, they retired to the living room to watch shows and I went up stairs to look through his Science Fiction book collection, now shelved these past three years in my prior bedroom without my consent, and found the book, a book club edition.

And this is where I write the paragraph about the long night I spent reading the book from cover to cover and the bleary-eyed pre-dawn hours working up the book report... Bull. I just read the back cover tease, the jacket flaps' description and used my memory of the many other Arthur C. Clarke books I'd read over the years and the themes he would often touch on. I then wrote a report based on those themes and the impact they had and tossed in the couple of facts I had gleaned about the book so the report had some apparent connection to it. In pen, single draft, I slept well as my father and Lois went to her house for the night.

The following morning I woke up and got ready to catch the bus to school and turn in the book report, then the house phone began ringing and ringing. I answered it. It was my father, he had just found out about my not graduating and I was to stay home until he got there to have a talk with me. I tried explaining to him that I was graduating and that I couldn't stay home as I had to get to the school. He called me a liar and ordered me to stay there until he arrived.

Period.

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