Senior Assembly

At the end of my Senior year at Arcadia high school (class of 1971), I was walking my usual route (trying not to trip, because . . . oh yes, I had tripped before!) through the campus one morning. Out of the blue, a friend called to me to tell me about the early morning assembly that had just ended. I don't even recall knowing about an assembly. Even if I did know about it, it would have been something I purposely would have avoided, if it wasn't required.

Growing up with the last name "Buehner" I had learned quickly who my friends really were. Some of my high school experiences are not very fond because of this. I could live without this assembly.

I chose my friends carefully. They were nice, good, slap-happy funny, fellow seminarians, quirky, bad drivers, off campus lunch goers, and streaky Quick tan wearers (who, like me could never get an even tan at our ankles because the sock line from our lives of wearing anklets left that part of our legs always shades whiter than the upper part). I still think of them today and wish we could walk aimlessly around and around the block at night, wearing our Dr. Pepper lip gloss. I was happy, just not into the Student Body thing (most of them were cliquish and I had few friends there).

So, that morning when my friend came running up, she informed me that it was a Senior assembly that I had missed - to recognize students with the most votes for "Most Likely to Succeed, Miss Congeniality, Mr. Macho. . ." (who knows what else!) . I thought, "So? And your point is?" I came back to life when she told me that I had been nominated. Yes, Me. . . "Most Timid". It felt like I was in a tunnel, where her voice echoed so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Exactly the reason I was content to miss the assembly! I was horrified. How demeaning. How embarrassing. What did I ever do to deserve THIS? I was crushed. It ruined my day.

I must have told my Mom about it when I got home, because when my Dad got home, I found myself in his office, for a little counseling session. He gently reminded me that I was from a class of 400 kids. "That is a lot of kids", he said. "And for you to be noticed, even as "Most Timid" was kind of a good tribute. You were noticed! Imagine the kids who were not noticed? That leaves a lot of unrecognized kids." Hmmm. I could feel my despair m e l t away. Maybe it wasn't so bad. . .I was unable to speak. I wonder if he could see in my eyes how he had completely changed my life?

Because of my Dad, I saw a broader picture. I will always be so grateful for his counsel. I'll always have a story to tell about "Most Timid". I still shutter when I think about it, but just before I flip out . . . I Smile really big!

Happy Father's Day! I Love you, Dad!