Graduation Day : Education: For 543 eighth-graders, event was filled with the thrill of the moment and dreams of the future.
They don’t call it commencement “exercises” for nothing. Just ask the 543 eighth-graders who gathered on the lawn at San Marcos Junior High Wednesday.
Just 24 hours before, as the afternoon sun beat down on 13 rows of folding chairs on the school’s well-kept lawn, Principal Susan Maki had led the students in a series of drills--all part of a good-natured attempt to make Wednesday’s rite of passage as graceful as possible.
“Spit your gum out, or you’ll look like a bunch of cows that haven’t eaten in a few days,” she had told her students, mostly 14-year-olds, during a commencement rehearsal.
“No hats,” Maki had said to a chorus of jeers as the teen-agers obediently stood up, sat down, and walked on command. “No sunglasses.”
On Wednesday, their hard work paid off. More than 1,500 spectators--some sporting state-of-the-art home video cameras--focused their attention on the soon-to-be high schoolers who wore everything from shimmering blue and green gowns to T-shirts and high tops instead of traditional caps and gowns. Come fall, these same kids will blend into the anonymous world of high school--just a few of the estimated 29,000 teen-agers who will enroll in the ninth grade in San Diego County.
Whether high school will be “just the same as junior high” as 14-year-old Rocky Jones predicted, or have “a lot more homework” as Brian Peterson feared, or whether Ken Motts’ worries about making friends in the megalopolis of San Marcos High School (enrollment 1,800) come to fruition, everyone seemed to agree on one thing: they were ready to leave junior high long before graduation.
“We’re outta here and going to high school,” Jason Wright, 14, said. “More sports, more funner, and more people to be around.”
“More girls,” chimed in 15-year-old Peter Janic.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the practice field, a shy eighth-grader had similar hopes.
“Cuter guys,” she said.
For all its import, the commencement was in some ways a familiar exercise: it began, as do most schoolroom functions, with an alphabetical recitation of names.
“Wassin Abifaher, Aurelio Adame, Chad Adams . . . came the roll call.
Dan Beeson, who was blessed with a place near the front of the alphabet, downplayed the importance of the day.
“I think high school graduation will be more important than this one, because that means real freedom,” the 14-year-old said, adding that the main hurdle between himself and freedom was a driver’s license.
Maki relieved the students by announcing that her remarks would be brief. “The message from the principal is mostly ‘Have a nice life,’ ” she had said Tuesday. And, true to her word, her comments lasted less than two minutes, sprinkled with phrases such as “you have exemplified yourselves.”
The recitation continued, complete with eager comments from the graduating class.
“Hal-ee, not Hay-lee,” the students chastised Maki after successive mispronunciations.
“Paris Stapp, Frederick Starr, Alicia Stevens . . . “ the roll call continued. And, finally, “Jason Wright, Gustave Yohner, Adrienne Zeiler and Heather Zetterberg.”
