The Senior Prank
In 1961, John Kennedy was inaugurated president. In May that year, Alan Shepard became the first American in space. The Freedom Riders’ bus was bombed in Alabama and civil rights protesters were brutally beaten. Researchers’ experiments unfolded the genetic code heralding the beginning of modern genetics. We listened to this news, mostly on our home radios, and anticipated being an important part of the world. We had goals and dreams.
We were eager for the pomp and circumstance of graduation day. Classical High School, the number two academic high school in the country, had prepared us to go on to higher education. We were rejoicing in acceptances to the Ivy League of Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Cornell, and the like. We were science and math nerds, opera buffs, Shakespeare scholars, and budding musicians. We always did as we were told: toiled over relentless homework, had perfect attendance, and vied for straight A’s. In our free time we were bookworms, and a few were athletes, but not at the expense of reading.
In the cafeteria where seniors ate lunch together, Michael, a promising concert violinist with many winning competitions already under his belt, said to the young man beside him, “Don’t you think we should be planning what we should do for the Senior Prank?”
Aaron, the state chess champion, and one of ten valedictorians, nodded over his plate of mystery meat and noodles, “Sounds groovy, man. What’re you thinking?”
“Just the idea came to mind—not sure what it should be.” Michael replied lifting a palm up indicating, I don’t know.
“Do you recall what they did last year?” asked Aaron repositioning his thick glasses on his nose.
“Was that when they filled the halls with gas balloons? Or was that the class that covered all the floors with sawdust?”
“And then there was the year where they put toothpicks in the locks of all the classrooms—and then broke them off.”
Michael guffawed and leaned back in his chair. “That was the greatest!”
“Hmmm. How about we pass the word for everyone to check out two books from the school library. Miss Dooley is so out of it that she wouldn’t realize what was going on until the library was empty.”
And that’s how it happened. The day was settled. The lunchroom was abuzz with whispers. Everyone should check out four books, maybe two wouldn’t empty the library. And we knew it would work because Miss Dooley was so clueless.
On the appointed day I got a library pass from my morning study hall teacher—totally legit—to check out my four books. I grabbed the first four next to the door so that I could get in and out quickly. I felt a bit queasy because I was not accustomed to being part of a ruse. When I approached Miss Dooley, I could not look at her. I felt sorry for her shaky voice as she said, “My, such a lot of reading going on today. It is so heartening to see so many of you wanting to read so much at the end of the school year.”
A lump formed in my throat. Maybe I could say I changed my mind, leave the books, and run out. But I was rooted to the spot, miserable in the conspiracy to dupe Miss Dooley. How sad would she be when she finally realized the joke was on her?
She tapped the ink pad with her stamp of the due date and tapped it into each “Date Due” paper glued into the covers of the books. “I didn’t know you could read German, Linda. That’s quite something.”
Stumbling over my own feet I managed to get out the door. What had I done? Not only had I deceived Miss Dooley but also checked out four books written in German! I didn’t know a word of German.
The sound in the cafeteria was decibels higher that day. Word passed quickly that the library was empty by noon! Back slaps, cheers, handshakes, pretending to toast with milk cartons, all with lots of laughter and smiles dominated the usually serious mood of lunch. I was still uncomfortable, thinking about how Miss Dooley might feel.
The next day, the usual culprits were hauled into the principal’s office. Those four boys were not on their way to college. They were the juvenile delinquents always blamed for anything that went wrong in the building. Since they were the only ones in the entire senior class who didn’t check out books, the assumption was that they initiated this prank. They were assigned to reshelve all the books while the rest of us were told that we needed to turn in a ten-page book report to the principal before graduation in two weeks—or we wouldn’t graduate.
Uh oh! My books were in German! I made an appointment with the principal to discuss my dilemma. While I waited for two days for that appointment, I slept very little, ate less, and trembled at the thought of this face to face meeting. In my years at Classical I had never met the principal.
“Young lady,” he began after I told him that my books were in German, “I will pick out four books for you to report on. Report to my desk at lunch and I will loan them to you.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed me.
My hands were wet. My knees like cooked noodles. My voice trembled, “Thank you. I’m sorry.” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Later, examining the book he assigned, I discovered two on history, one psychology, and two of Tolstoy’s novels, that I had read already. Not so bad, I thought. I usually read about two books a week anyway, so this would be fine.
Reading and writing long hours into the night, I thought about how short a time we reveled in our nifty prank and how long a time it took to do penance for what we had done. But all the reading and writing never erased my guilt over taking advantage of elderly Miss Dooley’s declining mental health.