It's their turn now -- they're a class act.

The View from the Top

By Rick Horowitz

Did anyone think they'd go quietly?

"SENIORS!" shouts the bright-red flier in inch-high letters, and the rest of the message is all in capitals, too. "YOU ARE INVITED TO THE SENIOR CLASS PICNIC...THE SENIOR CLASS WILL MEET FOR FOOD, FUN AND PARADE PLANNING...PLEASE BRING CHIPS, SODA, DESERT OR A SLALAD TO SHARE. IF YOU DO NOT BRING, YOU DO NOT EAT!!!"

Spelling, on the other hand, does not appear to be a requirement. Good thing.

What they're getting ready to parade about, our neighborhood teens, are two teeny-tiny changes set to occur any day now. One, summer vacation is drawing to a close and the school year is starting. And two --

THEY'LL BE SENIORS!!!!!

They've been waiting for this for years -- from the first moment they discovered what a pecking order was and realized it's lots more fun to be the ones doing the pecking.

For three years now, they've endured the taunts and the pranks, the strutting and woofing of each season's new top dogs. As freshmen, they were jittery about the humiliations that might be visited upon them. As sophs, they tried to look bored with it all. As juniors, they were taking notes. And now?

It's their turn: The Class of '99. Lock your doors.

"THE AGENDA FOR THE EAVNING, NIGHT AND FOLLOWING MORNING IS AS FOLLOWS:

7 PM -- CLASS PICNIC, INFO, RULES, ETC.

10 PM -- BEGIN TOILET PAPERING

3 AM -- MEET AT SCHOOL TO TP FRONT LAWN

6 AM -- BREAKFAST ON FRONT LAWN

6:45 AM -- SENIOR PARADE."

Remedial English will just have to wait; they've got better things to do. These latest prime canines will be busy marking their territory. They'll spend their last real night of summer making the trees change colors -- from leafy green to single-ply white. Bushes, too. Fences. Houses. Hydrants. They'll greet the sun with a hearty meal in the great outdoors, then they'll climb into various wheeled things to honk-and-roll their way through the streets, calling attention to their deeds and announcing their ascendancy.

They will not be ignored. They're seniors -- SENIORS!!!! King of the hill, top of the heap.

The neighbors will rush to their windows, spill onto their porches, as the noise grows louder. They'll smile and cheer and ignore the mess (for the moment, at least) as these favorite sons and daughters stream past with pride and hormones firing on all cylinders.

They remember, after all, when they were seniors. They still remember what it feels like to have the rest of your life ahead of you -- and the rest of the school beneath you. They'd trade places with those kids in a minute.

And the kids? They'd never agree to it. They're exactly where they want to be, the ever-loving envy of everyone who matters. There'll be plenty of time later to deal with all that other stuff, the edgy, nervous parts of senior year -- college applications and SATs and ACTs, the fear of rejection, the pain of separation, and the vague and fleeting thought: If these are the best of times, what comes next?

But that's for later. For now, they'll just soak it in -- the people clapping, the toilet paper flapping in the morning breeze. They're seniors.

These are their slalad days.

Posted 8/25/98. Fresh stuff right here twice weekly!

Search the Web Search Rick's!