EDGERTON — Something was missing in the field house at Edgerton High School.
Minutes before the graduation ceremony, the folding chairs on the gymnasium floor were nearly full.
Impatient toddlers ran in the aisles while dads tested cameras.
Moms waved relatives into saved seats.
The red faux-leather binders stood in stacks on the stage, waiting to be picked up by the graduates.
It looked in every way like the moments before a graduation ceremony.
But it didn’t feel quite right. It was cool and comfortable in the fieldhouse.
What kind of a graduation ceremony is cool and comfortable?
Out in the hall …
Ahh.
That feels more like it: unbearably humid and stuffy.
Dressed in their crimson caps and gowns, Edgerton’s class of 2009 sweated nervously in the heat.
Seniors Ashley Hesselman and Cassie Morrison leaned against the lockers, pressing their cheeks against the painted doors.
“It’s cool,” they said in self-defense when their friends laughed.
Seth Green sat sprawled on the tile floor, fanning his Mohawk with his mortarboard.
The Mohawk was a “spur of the moment” thing, he said. He’s only worn it for the last week of school.
Melissa Teeter wasn’t taking any chances. She didn’t want to get stuck with anybody else’s sweaty mortarboard.
Teeter borrowed a green, felt-tipped pen from a Gazette reporter and scrawled her name inside her cap.
“I don’t want to wear anybody else’s,” she said.
Ridiculous
A graduation ceremony is almost like flipping a switch.
Things that have been problems for four years suddenly become endearing.
Detentions, accidents and tardiness contain amazing comedic value.
Edgerton School District Administrator Norman Fjelstad didn’t hold back.
“I love graduation,” Fjelstad said.
For 21 years, he said, he’s been sharing anecdotes about students on graduation night. Teachers and staff submitted ideas.
He read a few comments about each of the 139 graduating students.
Here is a sample:
Rachel Bronson named her truck “Virgil.” Like most men, Virgil didn’t move far before breaking down, Fjelstad said.
Maggie Bradley wrote a 120-page novel her freshman year.
Amelia Donstad will be the only FFA officer in the school’s history who was unable to unlock the school van from the inside on a trip to an FFA convention.
“You said, ‘Who knew you had to pull the knob up to unlock it,’” Fjelstad said. “Everybody but you, Amelia.”
Ben Kruckenberg once told a middle school nurse he was going to quit drinking Mountain Dew because it would lower his sperm count.
Brenna McDonald might look small, but she’s “a beast in AP history debates.”
Abby Nelson will be remembered for being the most often injured swimmer on the school’s team. But she never missed a practice.
Also, on the class trip to Washington, D.C. in April, Nelson saw the White House and shouted, “Hey! Look! The capitol!”
Nick Schremp knows all the school janitors on a first-name basis because he had an amazing number of detentions to make up.
Zach Snell’s dad called Zach in sick one day. Zach had “turkey-itis.” It was the first day of turkey season.
Rizky Taqwin is an exchange student from India. He gets the award for “most improved English” in the class. He also was known as a chick magnet, a title he didn’t mind once he learned what it meant.
Words to remember
From speakers Amanda “Hannah Montana” Zeimet and Zach Palet. The two took turns giving one speech.
Zeimet (who once spit back at a llama at the zoo): Anything’s possible.
Palet: Tonight we’ve all achieved something besides just graduating. Some did drama, sports. Some did it all.
“What will your impact be 10 years from now?”
