Georgetown Jr. Sr. Highschool

Adrenaline whizzed through my heart and up through my head, forcing a scream out of my mouth without even thinking about it. "I'm UUUUUUUUUP!!!!" I screamed with a gurgle in my throat, crust in my eyes and hair wadded on top of my head carelessly. I rubbed my eyes and let out a huge sigh. There at the foot of my bed, bellowing out of my register vent, was the loud coat-hanger-cadence my dad so cleverly used to wake me up in the morning before school. It ratt-attat-tatted off of the metal duct work, through the vent, and bounced off of my ceiling; nearly every morning... and every morning I reacted the same... shocked; forgetting where I was, and being completely startled by my dad's habitual wake-up call.

It was August of 1999. I picked out my clothes, likely a pair of bell-bottomed-flair-legged jeans, some shirt from American Eagle, my trusty brown grommet belt, and clunky brown shoes. I heated up my curling iron to curl my bangs, picked out a pair of small hoop earrings, and sprayed myself with cotton candy perfume. "I am leaving in 10 minutes!" yelled my dad from my parent's bedroom. My mom drank coffee and watched the morning news, while Steve Horstmeyer forecasted the week's weather on Channel 12. I can still hear his voice in my head and as I pair the cool crisp air in the morning with his voice, I smile, as it sets the scene for "school season".

I hurried up and grabbed my things as I shuffled out the door to find my dad sitting in the driveway laying on the horn, waiting in his Maroon Ford F-150. I jumped in the front seat and he said something like, "I can't be late for school, if you don't want to ride the bus you have to get your act together!" I rolled my eyes and watched out the window as we backed out of the driveway and headed uptown toward school. The morning sun peaked out over the horizon and I counted each reflector on the on the pavement of S. Main Street. I was on my way to the first day of Jr. High.

Georgetown Jr. Sr. High would be the setting of some of the most tender, devastating, perfect, and socially-aware memories of my life. It was built in 1986, per the cement plaque built into the walls by the front door. It was different than the school my father and mother had attended, about 2 decades prior. That one is located in the old part of town and still remains today, but not currently in use.

My dad pulled up and parked in front of his lab. A large garage-style door and smaller classroom door faced us as we got out of the truck. When we entered the lab, bandsaws, welding machines, sawhorses, work benches, and the strong smell of varnish filled the surroundings (and my nostrils). A smell I cannot forget; it would pervade my senses this day, and nearly every day for 6 years of my life August-June. There were also big hanging electrical plugs, swinging from the ceiling, so that any piece of machinery could be plugged in regardless of the location. Cartoon posters hung on the wall--- men in protective glasses saying cheesy phrases about safety were of the subject matter... posters my dad had hung to remind the kids about ways in which, to NOT cut their hands off. My dad's office was in the lab as well, and it had a ginormous cork board above his desk filled with pictures. Pictures of me, my brother, my mom, our family and every student picture or note he had ever received. He kept a locker with mouthwash, tums, Tylenol and extra clothes. I always raided it when I was in there, collecting snacks he stashed and hoping he wouldn't notice. His classroom was filled with high top desks and metal stools. He had a blackboard with chalk that he used to write notes for his students on, specifically on one side with it was etched in bright colored with chalk and a note that said "DO NOT ERASE", so the janitor would know it was important. I used to leave notes for him in his desk that said, "I just want you to know that I love you" and his students would give him hell. He always lovingly gave it back.

He shared a space with Eric Sotzing (years later Jamie Loudon) and Jerry Underwood whom both had classrooms in the same hall. They were all 3 pretty close colleagues. There were large photos of the "oldest" senior pictures the school owned down that hallway, which bordered the gymnasium, and I always loved to look at them. Starting around the 1920's and stopping somewhere in the 40's probably, I could see all of the graduates, on that wall. They wrapped all the way around and went up to current years, over by the Band and Choir hall. I noticed their names were things like Clara and Olive and I smiled because I thought, "Why don't people name their children Olive anymore?". There was a glass display case at the beginning of the hall where dad would show case drafting projects, balsa wood structures, and wood creations. That was Industrial education in the 80's, 90's and early 2000's...and I couldn't be more proud to have learned to read a t-square, use a miter saw and box, identify a mig welder, and learn how do computer-aided drafting. I am thankful that during this time, there was a trade class that could be taught at a local high school... something soon forgotten and of yester-year. There are great wood art classes available now.... but my dad tailored his particular program to meet the needs of his school, kids, and community and many people took life skills home with them after taking his class. Some of those life skills were later revealed to be the difference between life or death.

My teachers my first year in Jr. High would be Mr. Caldwell (we christened him into teaching-hood) Mrs. Debbie Gardner, Mr. John Copas, Ms. Shanna Murray and the later newsworthy Mr.S. ( I won't use his name for privacy.)Mr.S once slammed a door so hard to yell at us in Math, that he broke the glass. He also went on to do some not so cool things while driving, and that's all I'll say about that. He was no longer employed as our teacher after that. We shared space with the 8th graders and when we finally made it there-- we would be graced with Mrs. Kathleen Smith, Mr. John Copas again and also the Hero, Mr. Lynn Garner, among many other extra teachers that taught special courses. We also shared a few teachers with the high schoolers and would stare at them in awe when they were leaving class and we were coming in after them. So many scrunchies on wrists, many Tommy Hilfiger shirts, and lots of frosted tips and puca shell necklaces.

Our supervisory administration staff consisted of Ms. Perianne Germann as our Principal, Mrs. Hawkins as our Secretary, Mrs. Christy Lucas in the Office (among many others in the Office) and Mr. Smith as our Superintendent. I'm drawing a blank on assistant principal...help me out-- was it Mr. Barlow?

This was our first year truly "transient". We had homeroom in the morning, but only to hear morning announcements and to count attendance. 7th Grade brought a ton of memories, but the amount of memories in 8th grade surpass 7th grade's existence, so I shall skip to 8th grade. (2000-2001).

8th Grade gave us all complexes. We were the oldest in our wing. Our lockers were lined alphabetically so many of my peers were close locker mates for years. Until you got a boyfriend or girlfriend, who would then take over your locker because you know, we were trying to show we were grown and stuff, and well we can't share apartments as teenagers. 

That was the time in my life when I was introduced to french tip square nails with piercings on them (yes that was a thing) and was also the last year of my awkwardness. I'll explain that in a minute. 

It was also the year I got my first "real" boyfriend who would go on to shape the next 4 years of my life. 

Life in 2000-2001 was great. First off, we survived Y2K. Ha! Nothing spontaneously combusted like they thought. I watched the Real World and Road Rules. I was still obsessed with Nsync. I had the very 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th, NOW! That's what I call music CD's, and I re-enacted the Genie In A Bottle Music Video by Christina Aguilera. TRL, was waiting for me when I got home from school every day. MTV still played music videos. I watched Nickelodeon still as a 13 year old and I wasn't ashamed. School Dances were everything to us. We danced way too low, and way too hard to songs we had no business dancing to. Kci-and JoJo were our slow dance anthems, and we did the tootsie roll alot. My dad one time locked us in the car (Meredith and I) and rolled down the windows and blasted Vanilla Ice at the top of the speakers, while dropping us off at a Jr. High Dance. I still used a landline phone that my parents could pick up and listen on, had dial up internet, and had no idea what a cell phone was, let alone social media. Social media wouldn't even be created for at least another 4 or 5 years. I also still had to wait an hour to pick up my photos from Rite Aid/CVS and I had no clue what they looked like before hand. I went through disposable cameras like crazy and wrote in my diary. 

My best friends at the time changed around but generally speaking they were Meredith, Heather, Angela, Lindsay, Jonna, Rachel, and Brittany. Meredith and I hung out a whole lot, because well we were neighbors. At one time Meredith and I had switched boyfriends and I ended up dating the one she nixed. His name is Dustin, and well he meant everything to me at the time. 

8th grade was the last year we could show our asses and get away with it (kinda), once we moved on to High School we would either sink or swim. This was also the year following the Columbine tragedy, and we were banned from having anything but clear and mesh book bags, and couldn't wear any trench coats. We never dreamed there'd be MORE tragedies like Columbine. 

Lunch at GHS was the bomb.com. They had an al-a-cart line that was awesome. You could buy Grandma's cookies and milkshakes. They had a salad bar, baked potato bar, and the best peanut butter jelly bars around. On Chicken Nugget Day there would be bottles of their secret sauce set out, and our plastic blue, yellow, green, and peach trays, would be loaded with it. Something like mayo, ketchup, and hot sauce is what it was made up with, and it was the best. They also had pizza dippers (grilled cheese and pepperoni), rib-b-que on bun, and pizza fridays, always served with corn. We were constantly yelled at, at the top of the lunch moniter's lungs, and we found comfort in sitting at the exact same lunch tables every single day. One day we showed up to lunch and there was a freaking drink machine for us to purchase from. We were SO pumped. We could get bottled drinks like fruit punch, pink lemonade, and we were the shiznit. The cafeteria also doubled as our theater and the gymnasium was directly south of us. The bathrooms were to the east, and that's where girls would spend a lot of time talking about things we couldn't say in front of our boyfriends. We still passed notes at lunch... and we would say things like, don't read that until study hall. It was in those notes that the deepest love was professed, the jealousy was real, and blood was basically bargained, but in graphite. I still have so many notes to this day from this time in my life. Sometimes Dustin would spray my notes with Ralph Lauren Polo, and I would smell it forever.

In the 8th grade we also went on the annual trip to Gettysburg that our grade took with the famous Lynn Gardner. I know for a fact, that the only reason I know the words to Daniel Webster's "Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable" speech is because of Mr. Gardner's single handed  approach at having us act out the scene from our own creative vices. We had all types of representation for that project. Me...? Well, I chose a strip tease. Why? hard to say really but I only threw off a hat and blazer, and it was inspired by Britney Spears' VMA performance. True story. Any who--- He took us yay-hoos to Gettysburg and I commend him. It was great. I actually think that trip helped fuel my love of history. The class of 2005 really bonded over that trip. On the way home our tires caught on fire. That was exciting. Mr. Gardner's approach at American History was full of hysterical satire and dramatic pauses. He. Is. Perfect for 13 year-olds. 

Before I move on let's talk about the library. I volunteered to work in the library from 7th-12th grade. I was once recognized as the only person to ever do that, (me ? shocking, I know) and got an award for it. I loved spending time there with Melissa Cropper and Ms. Kathy Reid. Ms. Reid's baked goods were always in the back waiting for us, and the sound of her favorite Kenny G soundtrack soothed the air.

It was in that library I watched the World Trade Center be hit and collapse that same year, and the place where I could browse the books and quench my thirst for research. My dad told me he'd give anything for me to be Librarian and I shrugged it off because I knew it wasn't in the cards. Little did I know....

When I left my Jr. High years and made it to High School, I changed. The summer did something to me physically. I grew taller, I was super lean, and I became a high school cheerleader. I had done it in Jr .High too.... but the conditioning I got with our new coach Ragan was tough, and we worked our tails off that summer at cheer camps, raising money at car-washes, and transforming the squad to be precise, fierce and full of passion. We looked so good while she was our coach and I will forever be grateful for the endurance, growth, and goals we met during that time.

I was a young lady now. With different goals, desires, and passions. I know now, I was just trying to navigate who I thought I was supposed to be. 

Freshman year I had a boyfriend that was still in 8th grade. We did everything together. Same boyfriend from before, and we were inseparable. We fought. We broke up. I was crazy about him. It was often a topic of being bullied, and there were girls who would say "I bet Amber is at home cutting her wrists because her and Dustin broke up." We were never apart long before somehow I seemingly ended up back where I belonged. High school girls can be so mean. There were many that didn't like me. A teacher I love once told me it was because I didn't acknowledge people when I walked down the halls. She said I looked down at the ground, clutching my grocery-sack-covered books with the super "S" or bubble letters drawn on them. That was because my brain was always deep in thought, overthinking, problem solving, and worrying about things that didn't matter. Not because I didn't like anyone. In fact, even then, I truly didn't think anyone liked me. I've had self-esteem issues for as long as I can remember. I took her advice and as I got older in school I embraced my nerdiness, laughter, and confidence. I made more friends that way. Having a dad as the kids' favorite class teacher, either helped or hindered my relationships. He seemed to always get involved and may or may not be known for sending spies to keep track of me. LOL. He was good at knowing my every move. When I broke the dress code. He would scorn me to tears in his office. Dress codes are dumb. He also is the one that taught me to cover my books in brown paper sacks, and he used my honda civic as a project for welding in his lab. I used to park next to his car and run through his class like a lunatic when I was late for school. He would just scream "GREAT YOURE LATE AGAIN IM NOT SIGNING A NOTE" and would still sign it anyways if I got caught.

My high school teachers were Mrs. Hauke, Mrs. Woodruff, Mr. Lady, Mr. Kroft, Mrs. Arn, Mr. Payne (Mmm Kay), Dad, Mr. Underwood, Mr. Cameron, Mr. Cropper, Mr. Boyd, Mr. Fitzpatrick, Ms. Sand, Mr. McKibben, and there were others that I didn't actually have that other kids had like Mr. Woods, Ms. Whittle, Mr. Sotzing, Mr. Loudon, and Mr. Tomlin. There are others that are just escaping my brain right now, so just forgive me, because I know I missed some. In Mrs. Arn's class we often sat in a cold room because, "Windows open and cold air mean less germs." I get it now. She's right, yanno.

Mrs. Dixon taught me how to make monkey bread, sew my own shorts, and how to care for a "Baby Think It Over".

If we needed to use the phone, we had to go put quarters in a pay phone over by the gym/cafeteria lobby. The teacher's lounge was forbidden, and even as a staff kid, I still was never allowed in there, lol. That same hallway outside of the cafeteria, was the site of a few fights, also. We were all crammed in there after lunch until we were allowed to go back to class...as we made our walk down the hall, people were close, egos were high, and a few times, a couple of girls would get into fights and we would scatter as they grabbed handfuls of hair, and rolled around on the ground beating the pulp out of one another. Or a couple of guys would hear one of them tried to steal their girlfriend and a they'd be nose to nose, teachers grabbing them by the shirt and yanking them apart. If it couldn't be squashed there, you might've heard, "OK THEN---3:30 at the PARK!!" (This was the old days kids-- violence is never OK, so don't get it twisted! I'm sure there are resources now for squashing beef, and we need to use them. Be kind to one another!!!) 

I had the privilege of riding with Dad to school until I got my license, and actually got to spend some personal time with teachers before school started. Many times Mr. Kroft would stop into dad's office and chit chat about things, and I listened to their unconventional conversations. 

We loved to throw Mr. K off, and ask him questions about hitchhikers, because he often picked them up, and before we knew it, Chemistry class was completely over and we were running out the door without a single assignment. By the way, his favorite national park is Glacier, and he loves Fiji apples.

My dad was really tight with some of the teachers too--- and they became his best friends. They would later be his pal-bearers when he passed, something I won't ever forget.

by the time I was in the 10th and 11th grade I had become very independent in my social life. I got my license in the summer of 2003 and I was always on the go.  Mrs. Holly Woodruff in 2002-2005 would be a huge ally in support of many of my classmates. We listened to Simon and Garfunkel, the Who and other hippy bands in her class. She had us read novels and make us think deeply about what they meant in society. She had a creative writing club after school where I would come and read poetry I had written about my love life. She supported those that felt like outcasts and helped us realize that we were profoundly important in society's future. I love you, Holly.

I had heard many stories about teachers like this at Georgetown Jr. Sr. High. That is truly the value and benefit you get from a small town school where teachers are able to spend one-on-one time with their students. I will forever be grateful for growing up in smalltown Ohio. 

Gym class at GHS was interesting. We played flag football, did basketball drills, and ran laps. The locker room was where us as girls got the chance to check out what Victoria Secret perfume we all wore, and I swear, that locker room probably STILL smells like VS Lovespell. If you can't taste that perfume in your mouth right now, did you even go to high school in the late 90's/early 2000's? No one in the girls locker room ever used the showers, but I feel like the boys did. I would have rather died then use a communal shower with no shower curtains. Health class was also in this neck of the woods in Mr. Underwood's classroom, and that is where were learned about "abstinence". ha.

Basketball games during this time---were SOMTHING. SPECIAL.

We had a Pep Band. We had colored/painted banners all over the walls in bubble letters, with Juniors, Seniors, etc. We have a large hoop we decorated for the boys to bust through to "Back in Black".  We had the sharpest, crispest, cheerleaders around dancing to Rob Zombie and ACDC. The popcorn smell filled every orifice in this gym and cafeteria, and we would spot our crushes on the bleachers. That gym built NBA Star Brian Grant. We would watch Ryan Seesholtz make his 1000th point of his career and we would watch the making of the boys 2007 State Champs. I graduated 2 years before, but the Juniors and Seniors then, were Freshman and Sophomores, like the Chadwells, building their best basketball career in that gymnasium. We would look at the Kelly Benintendi and Brian Grant Jersies on the wall and we would hope for 3 point shots at the last buzzer. Not to mention, the ground shaking, lights out, announcement, with that famous music, and the "Ooo Ahh MIGHTY GMEN" huddle before game time. When they said our names as cheerleaders, we would perform our best tumbling move or jump, (Mine was usually a toe touch) and I would sing the National Anthem as a Senior. Near halftime we would sing the fight song and perform a dance routine to it. It would be that very floor where Asst. Coach Jim Young would be so involved in the game, by the time it was over with, he was laying on the floor. It would also be where Underwood would get a "Technical" or two, as he yelled at the ref face to face, over a bogus call. His loving wife Rachel would be at every game. His children too. We as cheerleaders would have to learn the game and perfect our favorite stomp/clap cheers. "G-EO-RG-ET-OWN, Oh yes, cause we are the best!" I remember one year at either the game or a pep rally, when we were facing Eastern (our rivals), Gtown student dressed as a Warrior came out, head dress and all, and our G-men caught him and ripped his shirt in half, as we cheered. I think that kind of stuff is frowned on now, Lol.

I miss those days. I know the basketball games now are still full of love and cheer. But there was nothing like the good ole days.  

Our Track and Field team has always been one of the best. We had some pretty awesome placements on state and local levels, with many notable names over decades, thanks to Coach Vern Hawkins. We had a good soccer team for many years. Baseball (I didn't watch a ton of at school), but Softball-- yes. Over the years my dad coached and went to regionals and state more than once. He quit coaching before I became in Jr. High, but his famous quote "Make Me Proud" went on to inspire future coaches like Shawna Slack, to pour their hearts out on that field. The field is currently named after him to-date, with a beautiful monument. I am proud. 

And speaking of Coach. Have you ever truly lived unless you got to take Coach Hawkins' driver's ed class? Swerving all over Chicken Hollow and Northpole Rd, learning how to change the tires on the blue-lumina driver's ed car, and the trick of letting your arms touch on the wheel, when you were maneuvering cones? Priceless.

My Jr. and Sr. Years were some of the best times of my life. Some of the scariest, (sorry Mom and Dad) but also the best. There may have been times I was supposed to be at someone's house, and instead was in a field somewhere trying not to "die" or maybe I was in the backseat of someone's car at 2am , listening to Three-Six-Mafia, while I rode down a bumpy back road. When I finally made it to graduation day, I couldn't believe that all those crafts in Mrs. Arthur's class in kindergarten had led me to this place. If there's one thing, we all had in common as small-town Seniors in the class of 2005, its being like family. I can tell you all of their birthdays and even their handwriting, and middle names. 

I wish everyone could experience this life. Nothing is perfect, but honestly, I would never change the way I grew up, or my time at the Good ole' Georgetown Junior/ Senior High. It put a roof over my head for 20 years, and I am grateful I was one of the fortunate ones that got to share that space with a beloved parent/teacher. The feeling I feel when I walk through those doors to this day, feels like home.