Rick Houser

I attended public school twelve years. Seven years at Moscow and five years at Felicity where I received my diploma that said I had successfully completed all of my required courses. (Sounds pretty impressive don’t it?) Well here is where I’m going to tell the truth. I didn’t care for school. I always felt it was an evil necessity but for twelve years I enjoyed the social life that it brought. I always was sure I was going to be a farmer and just what was I going to need with Geometry or English etc..?

Rick Houser

Well of course as time has passed I found out that I wasn’t always going to be a farmer and yes I learned why I was going to need to learn those subjects. But I guess that might be another story for another time. Since mom and dad said I was going to go and Peg and Ben already had I decided that if I was going I might as well make the best out of it. So I would climb onto that school bus go to school stay out of as much trouble as I could and ride that long train named education.

At the end of my twelve years I learned that I finished 12th in a class of 46. I took pride in this as I accomplished this with the minimum of study and use of school books and no more homework than was ask for. I never failed a subject and never got a whipping in my years in school. (Not that I didn’t deserve a couple but I just didn’t get caught. Also it has been said I like to talk some. Well I did put that to use with my teachers and in most cases friendly conversation can help a fella out.

One instance where this ploy didn’t work was in the seventh grade. That year we had two teachers. One in the morning named Mrs. Tissue and one in the afternoon named Madeline Houser. Yes that is correct I got my mom every day for a half day. Now friendly conversation didn’t work in this case. As a matter of fact I got into more trouble that year than my entire twelve years. For some reason it seemed that I felt I should act up in her class so the rest of the class could see I was getting no favors here. As a matter of fact she held her displeasure with me until we got home and then at supper she would tell dad of my deeds and it became a two on one conversation in which I lost every debate that year. Once I heard mom talking to another parent in that class and I heard her say there isn’t anything more obnoxious than a seventh grade boy. After I realized I was a seventh grade boy I have since felt this was what brought on my trouble making.

After making it through that year and moving to Felicity due to school consolidation I found that other than learning in the classrooms there was all the extracurricular activities I could be involved in and this was where I wanted to be at. There was sports, class plays, and to me most of all FFA. The school offered something for everyone and all I had to do was show up for the most part. I loved being involved as it was after school and I got to interact with other students and have a lot of great fun. This was probably the first time without the chaperon of a parent.

One issue that seemed to continue to bother me was I was an underclassman. It didn’t seem how many times I was promoted up another year to a higher class I was still labeled underclassman! As a matter of fact when I hit high school and was a freshman the label seemed to become larger in lowering my status more than it ever had before. But as an underclassman I learned and learned quickly that to attempt to push for more respect from the upper classmen the lower your ranking went. A person could easily become a target for a little hazing. So for the next three years I dropped that approach entirely and began to hang with the older students. I had a quick wit I think and this helped me as they felt I caused them to have someone to laugh at. So I became the class clown so to say. It was better than being hazed or drilled with a dodge ball in PE class as all grades played in the same period of the day. (That could be suicide!)

So when I walked into school the first day of my senior year I could finally say to myself “hey I am the upper classman!” After eleven years of looking up and watching all those years of seniors walk with the strut of look at me now! I am a senior and you all must respect my authority! I guess all the years of looking up can cause such a stiff neck that when you become a senior looking down at the underclassmen just comes naturally. At least I think it did for me. My neck allowed me to look down way too easy.

The trouble I had was that my senior year was the quickest year I ever attended. As much as I wanted it to slow down so I could enjoy being on top it only sped up. The weeks sped by and the events that marked our last time to do this or that came and went in the blink of an eye. Finally the last week we completed our final exams, turned in our books and paid any dues or late fees we had and pay for our caps and gowns. As we practiced marching in to receive our diplomas being on top was ending at record speed.

After graduation we were just graduates and in the real world we were back of course where we all end up. We were beginning as underclassmen either in college or in the world and yes the view was a familiar one. We were looking up again. So no matter how good being a senior feels continue to tell yourself this is only temporary so savor the moment. We spend a lot of life looking up. It is worth it even though it doesn’t feel it. Also you will know when you are on top again so just go with the flow.

Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com.