Okay, the first thing you need to know is I didn't have spirit in school. It's not that I disliked our school or anything, quite the contrary. I went to the best high school in Austin. My mom and dad graduated from there 20 years before me. My grandfather graduated from the same high school many years before my parents. Hell, we were a legacy. MY boys will go there in 8 more years. My lack of spirit was a casuality of my generation. In the late 80's we were on the cusp of the gen-x/slacker era.
Except for that one year when I went out for drill team I did nothing. I couldn't make my weight cap so I couldn't dance so what was the point? You see apparently at 5' 1" you are considered a heffer over 111 pounds [the limit to dance at the game on Friday nights]. I was 118 in high school so I was clearly too porky to dance. Hmmm, I wonder why so many girls are suffering from eating disorders? Couldn't have anything to do with those kinds of requirements? Nahhhhh. Let's just say I only wish I was the in the heavy-weight class of 118 these days.
The only evidence that I had school spirit was my graduation photo. It proves that in fact I participated in graduation ceremonies and wore the official school colors: maroon and white. C'mon though our mascot was a "Maroon". Do you know what that is? It's the head of a comet. Seriously. What clever student council member came up with that over a 100 years ago? Go, Maroons!
However, our school fight song is classic!
"Beer, beer for old Austin High;
Bring out the whiskey, bring out the rye.
Send those freshman out for gin and
Don't let a sober senior in!
We never stagger; we never fall.
We are the [class level, i.e. junior]. We conquer all!
All ye saints of Austin High are
Out on the drunk again!"
No shit, we sang this at school assemblies and pep rallies. And now it will be in my head all day thankyouverymuch.
Given how much crap I'm into these days surronding my boys you might not believe I didn't do jack in school, but 'tis true.
Thanks to The Kept Woman for this little jaunt down memory lane.
The DHW
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