It was the best of times

STEVE SMITH

One of the best reasons for having kids is that they force parents to

stay physically and mentally fit. Kids may be running up and down a

soccer field but their parents are the ones who are running around

town taking them to the fields and trying to squeeze 25 hours worth

of work into a 24-hour day.

I’m 48 years old and although I’ve been suffering recently from

some minor back pain, I feel as good as I have in years. But this

feeling left me a couple of days ago and I’m struggling to recover.

Last Tuesday, you see, I received an invitation to attend my 30-year

high school reunion.

Unlike what I’ve heard a lot of people say over the years, I had a

great time in high school. My school, Fairfax, in Los Angeles, was

considered one of the best in the city. Back then, you could attend a

public school outside your zone if it offered a curriculum that was

of special interest to you. I know of at least two students who

transferred to Fairfax just to be there instead of the school in

their zone.

The price that one of them paid was three years of classes

learning Portuguese. I am sure there were many others who transferred

to Fairfax under similar circumstances.

When I arrived at Fairfax in 1970, the school was still

exceptional. Then, on Feb 9, 1971, everything changed. Early that

morning the city was rocked by a 6.5-magnitude earthquake that

caused, among other things a partial collapse of the Van Norman Dam

at the north end of the San Fernando Valley.

Closer to Fairfax High, other schools had buildings rendered

unusable due to earthquake damage. One of those schools bussed kids

into Fairfax. We were all put on a half-day schedule, sharing the

campus with far too many new students. When we graduated two years

later, our class was so large that the ceremony was conducted at the

Hollywood Bowl.

The extra students ruined that great school and it has never

recovered. About a year ago, I drove by with my wife and kids and saw

a charmless, rotting complex. Just a few years ago, Fairfax was the

site of the first shooting death on a Los Angeles Unified School

District campus. The sight of the school reminded me of a teacher

who, while signing my senior yearbook, said, “This is the last good

class.”

My time in high school was good. More than the times, the people

were good. We were a class that had been one of the first to produce

seniors old enough to vote. The Vietnam War was winding down and

activism was everywhere. We were an intelligent, thinking group of

kids -- action people who did not have time to wait for their ship to

come in. Instead, we were the ones going out in rowboats to meet it.

At least, that’s the way it seemed.

You can talk all you want about the “sandwich generation” and “Gen

X,” but we were the pioneers of lost identity. Too young to be part

of the Woodstock generation, but old enough to fight in the war, we

struggled to find our place. Some of us had a rough time of it before

finding our groove, but I suppose that’s typical of a lot of high

schoolers.

Looking over the enclosed reunion survey, there are two questions

that stand out. One is, “What did you want to be in high school?” the

second is, “What is your current occupation or profession?” To both

of these, I can answer, “a writer.” At the time, I was a huge fan of

the late Jack Smith, a Los Angeles Times columnist who wrote about

anything he wanted. That seemed to me to be the best job in the

world.

I want nothing more for my kids than to see them grow up as good

people. But I’d also like to see them grow up to be what they’ve

dreamed of since high school. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that

way. Life has a way of telling most people what they need to do

instead of guiding them toward what they want to do.

One track I’d like to see in today’s high schools are courses

designed for kids who want to be self-employed. Not everyone wants

to, needs to or should go to college, but the options for these kids

are limited. Many of them, however, would probably love to have a

shot at being their own boss instead.

I’m looking forward to the reunion, even though the thought of 30

years gone by is a bit of a shock. But I suppose it’s not really any

less a shock than realizing I actually know people who made a

conscious decision to learn Portuguese in high school.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(949) 642-6086.