17. Shut up Prenkert. It was my Freshman year, 4th hour Study Hall. My dad was my teacher. He walked into the front of the room and began to explain how Study Hall was going to work. Behind me, I hear Rob (a somewhat scary Junior) mutter, "Shut Up, Prenkert. I hate you." There were actually a few other words included in the sentence he stated. For a moment I thought he was talking to me, but quickly realized his attention was directed toward my dad. My dad began to take attendance, and Rob continued his curse-laden insults under his breath so that myself and the few others nearby could hear him. It became quite clear he had no idea who the person sitting in front of him was.
As my dad worked his way up the alphabet, he finally reached the "P"s. He said, "Derry Prenkert," and a puny Freshman guy sitting in front of a clueless Prenkert-hating Junior thug sheepishly raised his hand and said, "Here."
From directly behind me, I heard said Junior exclaim, "Oh, s@$&!"
18. Runner Up: It happens every year at schools across America. Students receive a huge class roster and circle the names of who they think is the best representation of character, class and all that is right about their grade and school... or maybe it's just a massive popularity contest.
Homecoming court.
In the Fall of 1994, I made it into the Final 3.
I didn't win.
Sweetheart (the winter version of Homecoming at NorthWood).
In the Winter of 1995, I made it into the Final 3.
I didn't win.
I've always been pretty good at finishing second.
As my dad worked his way up the alphabet, he finally reached the "P"s. He said, "Derry Prenkert," and a puny Freshman guy sitting in front of a clueless Prenkert-hating Junior thug sheepishly raised his hand and said, "Here."
From directly behind me, I heard said Junior exclaim, "Oh, s@$&!"
18. Runner Up: It happens every year at schools across America. Students receive a huge class roster and circle the names of who they think is the best representation of character, class and all that is right about their grade and school... or maybe it's just a massive popularity contest.
Homecoming court.
In the Fall of 1994, I made it into the Final 3.
I didn't win.
Sweetheart (the winter version of Homecoming at NorthWood).
In the Winter of 1995, I made it into the Final 3.
I didn't win.
I've always been pretty good at finishing second.
19. Bombing at Prom. As mentioned in a previous post, I was part of a High School Rock Band called Cellophane Dream. We did two shows. We rocked the house at the Spring Dance when we covered Green Day's "When I come Around", Ugly Kid Joe's "I Hate Everything About You," U2's "The First Time, and Nirvana's "Tourettes". Seriously, it was pretty awesome.
Then we played our Senior Prom. I believe that gig was the definition of "train wreck. Our sound system was jacked up. One of the guitarists couldn't find his guitar pick. We played 2 songs and everyone went and sent down. Well almost everyone. Our dates stayed standing in support. We cut the set short because we had effectively drained every ounce of energy and enjoyment out of the room. We were humbled.
20. Gym class without Jim. It was my Freshman year when NorthWood High School football coach Jim Andrew's died in a tragic car accident. It happened over a weekend, and that Monday following is stilled etched in my brain. Mr. Andrews was my Gym teacher. We went to Gym class the Monday after and go in our normal "uniforms". The substitute for that day put out some basketballs and told us we could do whatever we wanted during that hour as long as we stayed in the Gym.
About 10 minutes into class, Jason walked into the Gym. Jason was a Senior. He had played football for Jim. I didn't know a lot about Jason, but I knew he had a very rough home life with no father. Jason set up in the very top row of the Gym bleachers and stared at the ceiling. I kept looking up at him and wondering what was going on in his mind. About 30 minutes into class, Jason let out the loudest blood-curdling scream that echoed through the gym... "WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?"
Basketballs stopped bouncing, people stopped talking, and everybody just stared... not up at Jason, but more at the ground or at each other, almost in agreement that what had just happened summed up what everyone was feeling and thinking.
Then we played our Senior Prom. I believe that gig was the definition of "train wreck. Our sound system was jacked up. One of the guitarists couldn't find his guitar pick. We played 2 songs and everyone went and sent down. Well almost everyone. Our dates stayed standing in support. We cut the set short because we had effectively drained every ounce of energy and enjoyment out of the room. We were humbled.
20. Gym class without Jim. It was my Freshman year when NorthWood High School football coach Jim Andrew's died in a tragic car accident. It happened over a weekend, and that Monday following is stilled etched in my brain. Mr. Andrews was my Gym teacher. We went to Gym class the Monday after and go in our normal "uniforms". The substitute for that day put out some basketballs and told us we could do whatever we wanted during that hour as long as we stayed in the Gym.
About 10 minutes into class, Jason walked into the Gym. Jason was a Senior. He had played football for Jim. I didn't know a lot about Jason, but I knew he had a very rough home life with no father. Jason set up in the very top row of the Gym bleachers and stared at the ceiling. I kept looking up at him and wondering what was going on in his mind. About 30 minutes into class, Jason let out the loudest blood-curdling scream that echoed through the gym... "WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?"
Basketballs stopped bouncing, people stopped talking, and everybody just stared... not up at Jason, but more at the ground or at each other, almost in agreement that what had just happened summed up what everyone was feeling and thinking.
7 comments:
Hope everyone knows it wasn't me that was cursing your dad....
(Funny story, though...)
Oh, no, Rob. It's apparent to everyone that there's no way you could be only two years older than someone who's making a point of commemorating his 32nd birthday.
Ba, dum, bum!
#20
All to often kids have these types of days when they should be having the times of their lives in high school and all of a sudden reality hits them square in the face. Jimtown class of 86 happened to us just a few weeks before graduation. I pass the place were Steve crashed almost every Saturday on my way home from work.
You're not the only dual runner-up in the family. Your cousin Curt was also runner-up twice: once to your oldest brother in Homecoming 87 and once to his own best friend in Prom 88. Ironically, back then for Homecoming, only the girl was chosen by voting. The Homecoming king was crowned based on who the winning girl's escort was. The girl who eventually won was going to ask Curt to escort her, but when she learned that another senior girl candidate had a crush on Curt and was going to ask him to escort her, she asked your brother instead. As for prom, Curt lost by just a couple of votes. Your dad was counting the votes, and kept pulling for Curt to win. Being the honest man he is, he didn't cheat, and Curt lost by just 2 votes. So Curt would like to invite you to join the "Runner-Up Club." I imagine it's like kissing your sister (or cousin if you don't have a sister). Of course, I was never cool enough to even be nominated, so I don't know what it feels like to passed over - twice!
I was the sweetheart king in 1988 and then Bethel homecoming king in 1992. Lucky me. Lucky, lucky me.
You were referred to in this blog entry.
http://robbyprenkert.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-you-write-when-you-cant-think-of.html
Actually, Shelley, there was no such thing as Homecoming King back then. It was my terribly forward-thinking class of 1991 that established the wonderfully egalitarian practice of crowning a Homecoming King, thus imposing the quest for peer validation -- and the sting of non-validation -- equally among the sexes.
It turns out that, back in the dark ages of 1987, those guys were simply escorts. . . nary a crown to be had. Sort of the eunuchs of the rural high school royal family. And, unfortunately, it sounds like Curt was the runner-up eunuch.
Of course, this comes from the only one of the three Prenkert brothers never the be nominated for ANY form of High School royalty, let alone COLLEGE peerage. I made the "semi-finals" -- the final 8 -- for the first-ever NWHS Homecoming King court, but that's misleading. There were only 8 boys in our class. Okay, just kidding. But seriously, that year the football players were automatically disqualified, because Coach Andrews, to whom Derry refers in this post, didn't want his players distracted by some stupid Homecoming pageant. So, I was in the top 8 vote-getters in a, shall we say, *slow* race.
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