The other day in one of my classes we began discussing high school traditions for small town kids. Every small town has it. That one adventurous, and probably illegal action that all teenagers look forward too. For some it's a traditional Senior Prank, for others it's an annual road trip, but the teens in Frederick High School have something different altogether.
Just inside the Frederick city-limits, there's a long windy gravel road. If you're new in town you'd never find this road. It's nestled tightly in between an old barn and an open field leading out of town. Follow the road all the way down and you'll run into a huge set of tin barns, better known as the ag-barns. Some of the local FFA kids store their animals inside these barns, but other than that not much goes on inside these barns anymore. The outside of the barns is where all the action happens.
As you approach the barns from the south you'll see the masterpiece. Well, an obnoxious masterpiece I'd call it. The gangster-licious straight-thuggin' wannabe class of 2008 painted over all the senior names from years past and made their own mural that reads "Seniors 2008." How unique and innovative! (That was sarcasm by the way.) Underneath the mural you will find all the names from the 2008 Seniors, as well as a few other choice words from my classmates. :)
The real masterpiece, I dare say, is on down the road a bit. The west side of the barn goes on for a good half-mile showcasing senior names from my Dad's class of '77 to last year's seniors of 2011. I love spending time walking down that old dirty road, kicking dust with my boots and reminiscing on all the old names and people. My friends and I used to talk for hours discussing all the rich tradition and historical depth these barns hold. From our parents to our piers, there is a little story for every 18 year old who has passed through Frederick High.
My own story of "tagging" the Senior Barns is quite thrilling actually. It was a few days before graduation, and my good friend who was also a foreign exchange student at the time was with me. We had been cruisin' around downtown, checking out all the action for the night, trying to decide what to do. As we pulled up to the local hang out, a gas station ran by the local farmer's coop, we asked everyone what was goin' on that night. No one really had any plans, so Ingrid and I sat on the back of a friend's tailgate for a while, just shootin' the breeze.
During the conversation, tagging the Senior Barns came up--bing--a light bulb went off in my head. "Ingrid," I said, "We're SENIORS and we haven't tagged our name on the barn yet!" Her eyes got big as she responded "You're right, what is wrong with us," she half jokingly asked in amazement.
"Anybody got some spray paint?" I hollered at the group of cowboys around us, of course they had spray paint.
"I got some white paint in my toolbox, why?" one of my good friends and fellow FFA members replied.
"Ingrid and I have to go tag the senior barn!"
"You mean you haven't done that yet?" he asked surprisingly. "Here take it," he said as he tossed me the can of spray paint.
Ingrid and I jumped in my '98 Grand Prix and headed down the road to the ag barns. Adrenaline, excitement, and mischief filled our bodies as we reached our destination. This is what I had been waiting for my entire life. This what I went to school for. And this is what seals my identity as a Frederick Bomber forever.
Ingrid, on the other hand, was just stoked to be there, her friends back home never did anything like this. First we walked the half-mile of tin, looking for just the right place. We saw Jimmy, Chaz, Justin, and all the other rowdy guys from our class. A little further we saw Kimberly, Mariechen, and Laney, some of the girls in our grade, and then in between some 2007 names and a group from our class, we found it. The perfect little clearing for two 09ers. The names underneath were very faded and the names above and below had worn off with years of wear and tear. "This is it." We turned to each other and grinned mischievously.
"You go first," she said.
"Okay! I'm ready," I exclaimed as she handed me the spray paint. Hmm..what should I write? I thought intensively for a few moments before I decided. Psshh...I pressed the nozzle on the can and stopped as we both jumped with excitement. After a few giggles I began again, this time carefully holding down the trigger till each letter and number was perfected. "Haley 2009" it read. I stepped back as Ingrid and I gave it a nod of approval and a high-five of excitement.
"Okay, I guess it's my turn," she said. Ingrid carefully stepped down into the grassy ditch, her legs getting scraped and torn from the lack of covering flip-flops and shorts provided. "This is crazy," she yelled at me with a laugh, and then she went to work. Ingrid knew exactly where she would right and what it would say. Just below my name she signed her dedication to Frederick High School in white spray paint. "Ingrid '09," it read.
And it was at that moment we knew we were part of a long, long tradition of high school seniors.
Just inside the Frederick city-limits, there's a long windy gravel road. If you're new in town you'd never find this road. It's nestled tightly in between an old barn and an open field leading out of town. Follow the road all the way down and you'll run into a huge set of tin barns, better known as the ag-barns. Some of the local FFA kids store their animals inside these barns, but other than that not much goes on inside these barns anymore. The outside of the barns is where all the action happens.
As you approach the barns from the south you'll see the masterpiece. Well, an obnoxious masterpiece I'd call it. The gangster-licious straight-thuggin' wannabe class of 2008 painted over all the senior names from years past and made their own mural that reads "Seniors 2008." How unique and innovative! (That was sarcasm by the way.) Underneath the mural you will find all the names from the 2008 Seniors, as well as a few other choice words from my classmates. :)
My own story of "tagging" the Senior Barns is quite thrilling actually. It was a few days before graduation, and my good friend who was also a foreign exchange student at the time was with me. We had been cruisin' around downtown, checking out all the action for the night, trying to decide what to do. As we pulled up to the local hang out, a gas station ran by the local farmer's coop, we asked everyone what was goin' on that night. No one really had any plans, so Ingrid and I sat on the back of a friend's tailgate for a while, just shootin' the breeze.
During the conversation, tagging the Senior Barns came up--bing--a light bulb went off in my head. "Ingrid," I said, "We're SENIORS and we haven't tagged our name on the barn yet!" Her eyes got big as she responded "You're right, what is wrong with us," she half jokingly asked in amazement.
"Anybody got some spray paint?" I hollered at the group of cowboys around us, of course they had spray paint.
"I got some white paint in my toolbox, why?" one of my good friends and fellow FFA members replied.
"You mean you haven't done that yet?" he asked surprisingly. "Here take it," he said as he tossed me the can of spray paint.
Ingrid and I jumped in my '98 Grand Prix and headed down the road to the ag barns. Adrenaline, excitement, and mischief filled our bodies as we reached our destination. This is what I had been waiting for my entire life. This what I went to school for. And this is what seals my identity as a Frederick Bomber forever.
Ingrid, on the other hand, was just stoked to be there, her friends back home never did anything like this. First we walked the half-mile of tin, looking for just the right place. We saw Jimmy, Chaz, Justin, and all the other rowdy guys from our class. A little further we saw Kimberly, Mariechen, and Laney, some of the girls in our grade, and then in between some 2007 names and a group from our class, we found it. The perfect little clearing for two 09ers. The names underneath were very faded and the names above and below had worn off with years of wear and tear. "This is it." We turned to each other and grinned mischievously.
"You go first," she said.
"Okay, I guess it's my turn," she said. Ingrid carefully stepped down into the grassy ditch, her legs getting scraped and torn from the lack of covering flip-flops and shorts provided. "This is crazy," she yelled at me with a laugh, and then she went to work. Ingrid knew exactly where she would right and what it would say. Just below my name she signed her dedication to Frederick High School in white spray paint. "Ingrid '09," it read.
And it was at that moment we knew we were part of a long, long tradition of high school seniors.
I learn some new stuff from it too, thanks for sharing your information. Info
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