Dreams

by Van Halen

World Turns Black and White,
Pictures in an Empty Room.
Your love starts fallin' down,
Better change your tune.

Reach for the Golden Ring,
Reach for the Sky,
Baby Just Spread Your Wings -  

We’ll get Higher and Higher,

Straight on Up We’ll Climb.

.

+++++++++++++
.

In the late spring of 1987, my friends and I were mere months away from matriculation. As Seniors, we were antsy. That sense of anxiousness manifested itself in a lot of ways. Mostly, it made us creatively obnoxious. It also affected those poor teachers who were eager to dump us out into the world.

RHS had eight class periods with a staggered schedule. Seniors attended class from first to seventh periods while undergrads went to school from second to eighth period. With extracurricular activities equally available to all students, this left the seniors with 45 minutes of free time at the end of each day.

A mixed group of friends, including Eric Yavitch, Dennis Macy and Larry Thompson often gathered in the Compass Business room during 8^th period. The Business Room was located behind room 308 and was only accessible by passing through room 308 itself. During 8^th period, Mrs. Starner taught English in room 308, which meant that if we wanted to go to the Business Room, we’d have to pass through Mrs. Starner’s classroom.

While she conducted class, we were busy being seniors. We talked about cute Sophomore girls we were either screwing or trying to screw. We also made plans for summer vacation and for college in the fall. We were also doing anything that didn’t involve actual schoolwork

We joked and laughed while Mrs. Starner attempted to teach her students. Invariably, someone in the Business room was trying to get a note to one of the girls in room 308 or someone in room 308 was trying to get a pass out of Mrs. Starner’s English class to “do an interview for Compass or News Center 87, the RHS TV news program with which most of us had some sort of connection. Mrs. Starner was patient enough, as our conversations often drifted into her room and interrupted her teaching.

One day, however, she’d had enough as she marched over to the Business room door, poked her head inside and politely said, “alright boys,” as she pulled the door shut.

Still, the door’s window allowed us to continue wreaking havoc on her class. Larry Thompson casually placed a small metal trash cylinder in the center of the business room and got on top of one of the business room’s school desks. It was pushed against the wall, out of public view. Larry smirked as he unzipped his pants.

For the students outside, they could not see what he was doing. Then, he proceeded to pee into the basket from 3 feet up and 3 feet out.

A stream of bright yellow urine drew an arc across the open window like some magnificent public fountain as it flowed into the metal trash can, It made that singular sound that only a constant stream hitting aluminum could make. As the bottom of the cylinder filled, the sound changed from a hollow tinkling to a full on flow of liquid from one container (Larry Thompson) to another (the tiny metal trash can sitting in themiddle of the Compass Business Room).

Students laughed as Larry quickly zipped up and jumped off the desk. Without skipping a beat, he tied the plastic liner into a knot and lifted the bag out of the cylinder.

A large reservoir of yellow liquid coalesced in one corner of the bag. Larry proceeded to haul the bag through room 310 as Mrs. Starner continued to teach her English class. She paused as he pardoned himself and proceeded through the classroom, trash bag in tow. He lugged the bag to the boys’ restroom and quickly threw it away. He returned a short time later and we all laughed as he casually sat down and started working on something for the Compass.

The next morning, Mr. Coffman did something he rarely did as he stood at the head of the class and addressed us directly.

“Starting today, the Compass Business room will be locked during Mrs. Starner’s 8^th period English class and nobody will be granted access to the Business Room until her class ends. Are there any questions?”

Nobody said a thing. When Mr. Coffman was upset, nobody dared challenge his authority.

“Since that’s all taken care of, let’s get back to work.”

Mr. Coffman resumed his normal position behind his desk as we worked on our stories. There is no telling how the conversation went between the two teachers that shared rm. 310. Most likely, there was quite a bit of head shaking and quiet disbelief.

However, that would not be the last time we haunted Mr. Coffman or Mrs. Starner. We felt it was our duty to leave a legacy that would endure. We’d wind up as anecdotes overheard in the conversations of retired Reynoldsburg teachers long after we graduated. Mr. Coffman, however, took it all in stride as he gently shook his head.

“Only the names and faces change,” he’d always say as he shared anecdotes of students and classes long gone.

We tried to stand out like no other class, but Mr. Coffman had seen it all before. Only the names and faces had changed.

.