When I was in high school, there was a years-long tradition for the incoming class to creatively manage to change the graduating year that was painted high above the second-floor entrance on The Main building just before the start of the fall semester. (Yeah, we just called it The Main back then.) I’m proud to say that I was part of a very ambitious girl clique and one of the members of my crew lived very close to the school. (I know you know where I’m going with this but just wait. It’s a great story! I promise.) Anyway, we were lucky that her family tree had several older brother branches and everyone there was into home improvement. So it was no coincidence that they happened to have a whole slew of ladders at the ready to aid our graffitious teenage plot. Our plans took shape only days after we discussed the arrangements. The clock was ticking and we needed to do it before another group seized the opportunity.
We met at C’s house, clad in black head to toe and brandished flashlights. We strategically left our cars at her house, as a crowd on a Sunday at the high school during August definitely would have raised suspicion. None of us could afford to get caught. We boarded her older brother’s truck that was pre-loaded with gold and purple paint (Go Rams!), brushes, and two adjustable ladders. We were going in.
C’s brother B drove us to the side entrance of The Main, helped us unload the contraband and sped off. The fun was about to begin. It was a gorgeous August night and we were all nervous and excited for our derelict deed. What a joke that a bunch of honor students were about to deface the high school. I loved it.
We set the first ladder against a small attached annex in the back and C scrambled up first. We then fed her the second, bigger ladder to gain access to the top roof. One by one, the six of us grabbed the rungs and up we went. I remember that my heart was pounding! We had to keep the chatter to a minimum, too. Who knew what sort of patrols might have been going on? We all managed to ascend the first ladder and then set the longer one against The Main to climb our final few rungs to begin our painting legacy.
Once up top, the view was spectacular. The high school was set back from the road in a very residential neighborhood and we all stood tall taking in the experience. It was like a scene from a John Hughes movie. We were all actually silent for a few minutes. It was a pivotal time in all of our lives. We were on the verge– about to be seniors with college on the horizon. Lots to look forward to. We pointed out C’s house and several other local landmarks, took a collective deep breath, and then we got to work.
Our graduating year was 1986 so our mission was to change the current ’85 to read ’86. Plus we had to paint upside down. Our access point put us higher than the goal. So the only way to reach our target was to hang over the pointy top of the slanted roof. I panicked for a hot minute thinking that my parents would have totally killed me if they knew what I was about to do! That was if I didn’t fall off the roof first. But I pushed away all fear. We managed to use the gold to cover over the entire 85 and then let that dry while we painted hearts, and our initials, and “Seniors Rule!” on the enormous slanted primary roof. Finally we did the huge ’86 in purple. The official baton had been passed. Mission accomplished! Some of us had tears in our eyes. (Ok, it was me.) We couldn’t wait to admire our handiwork from the ground. But we took our time up top, as C’s brother wasn’t collecting us for a bit.
We passed the time sitting cross legged and chatting about our upcoming classes, on whom we had a crush, where we wanted to go for spring break, what we were planning to wear on the first day, and how we were going to completely rule the school. Finally it was time to scramble down. We carefully retraced our steps in reverse, feeding the large ladder to our ground crew of B and his best friend who showed up just in time. We left the paint behind. No need to chuck the evidence of our misdeed now! B circled the truck to the front of The Main to check out our brushstrokes. Success was indeed purple and golden. “Not bad, ladies,” he mumbled.
School started about ten days later and we were all excited to be the talk of the seniors for our eighty-six-capade. But much to our horror, our ’86 had been eighty-sixed! Another group had apparently climbed up more recently and painted right over our numbers. My crew gathered in front of The Main completely gobsmacked. How was it even possible?? Who had done this and why?
We tried to convince ourselves that it didn’t really matter. We were there first! So of course we finally found the braggart guys who painted over our handiwork. And when the confrontation went down in front of Mr. Suchy’s social studies class, C took the lead by just laughing at them like we didn’t even care. “Yeah. Been there. Done that already, boys. Good try though. How does it feel to follow in the footsteps of greatness? Do you like living in the shadow of a bunch of girls that beat you to it? Eat our golden dust, fellas.” And before any of them could even answer, heads held high, we all stomped away leaving them feeling like they had just gotten stuck with our sloppy seconds.
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