Graduation and Such

We were instructed to arrive at eight in the morning for graduation practice. There were people around that I haven't seen for years, for one reason or another. One of the main reasons was that a lot of people took Finneytown's vocational school program, at the Oaks campuses: Diamond Oaks, Scarlet Oaks, Laurel Oaks, and Live Oaks - but somehow I doubt there are many oaks around. Incidentally, the laurel oak is the same species as the diamond oak. Other people I hadn't seen because they were not so bright, and I hadn't had any classes with them for a long time. And in at least one case, a guy was taking classes at a college. Most of these people I didn't really care about seeing; they were nondescript and unexceptional - that's why they were in trade school or lower-level classes. However, the college guy, Caleb Combs, was interesting; he had gained a full growth of beard since I last saw him, and he had always been a Nice Kid. Anyhow, we practiced graduation, which was a pretty stupid process. We lined up in an order that was rigidly enforced yet, as far as I could tell, random. Then we sat in the absurd heat and waited for our names to be called. Ms Owen was doing the name reading; she has no classes for seniors, and is our class advisor because, I'm told, she has been since we were in about seventh grade and no one thought to change it. She was practicing pronouncing our names. She said this was our one chance to correct her before she read it out loud to the audience later tonight, so everyone whose name she fumbled made sure to set her straight. After that, we had a big sweaty group photo, and then went home. More precisely, Aaron took me to his house, and then his dad took us to Chipotle. Then I went home.
-We all met up back at the Compound at 1815, I think. We got on our robes and mortarboards. They lined us up, and then gave us about fifteen minutes to scatter throughout the gym before lining back up. It was still butt-hot as we walked out to the football field. But at least there were nice white chairs for us to sit on. Several people made speeches of varying lengths and topics. Mrs Solomon, a retiring librarian, spoke for at least ten minutes on the subject of being a good person. Dr White, my biology teacher this year, who's also retiring, talked too, but kept it briefer. We also had the class president (Dave Steel), the valedictorian (Rosie), and the salutatorian (Kristen). Kristen's speech was memorable; I think her opening was her senior prank: "What do you do when you're on a canoe in the middle of a mangrove swamp and you have to go to the bathroom? The only thing you can do: you pee over the side of the boat." It was a metaphor, but I have no clue what for. Rosie's and Kristen's speeches were both subtly sarcastic; I don't know if they wrote them that way consciously, or if the utter badness of our school offered no other alternative and it just came out that way from their subconsciouses. For example, Rosie said that she was able to compete in track and swimming, which she couldn't have done in a better school because she wouldn't have made the teams. On the face of it, it's a compliment, but without too much digging, it's also a deeper-reaching insult.
-Ms Owen read all of our names, and it became abundantly clear that she hadn't taken in a thing when we corrected her pronunciation. My name wasn't hard, so she got it right. But there were several mistakes.
•She pronounced "Bascombe" with a long a.
•She pronounced "Wergers" with a soft g and "Sturgill" with a hard one.
•Rosie's middle name is Rabayev. Ms Owen confidently called, "Rosie Rebmanov Korman." I think Matt Rebman was amused.
•Ms Owen just gave up when she came to Yana Andreevna Demyanova. It's not hard if you sound it out, especially if you've been instructed beforehand how it's pronounced: /'Ya•na An•dre•'yev•na Dem•'ya•no•va/. Phonetic! Well, she called /'Ya•na An•'drēv•na De•vi•'yav•no•va/. Pathetic! Andreevna I can understand, but how do you add two extra v's and an extra syllable to Demyanova?
We all got our diplomas despite her. (I think Yana should have waited for here to get it right before walking out to the front.) Actually, we didn't get our diplomas: we got the covers for them. This is a really rotten thing the Compound does at graduation - instead of getting your diploma, you get the cover, and that way, if you decide to do anything at graduation that would indicate you have a sense of humor or are an interesting human, the school can make you do some type of community service before they'll give you your real diploma. For this reason, we did not toss our hats. I still don't know why they told us not to throw them - what possible reason could there be? But Mr Fisher warned us that he would review the tape if he saw any flying hats and we'd be really easy to pick out. Yet another reason that I hate the Compound.
-And now, I've been searching for a job. I think I started too late, though. I've put in about ten applications all across town, and nobody's really hiring. Bruegger's Bagels and Panera both say they're looking for someone who can stay for the fall and winter. I was pretty disappointed when Bruegger's said that, because I'd biked up there on Monday to find the hiring manager gone, Tuesday to find her still gone but confidently predicted to be in tomorrow, Wednesday to find that she'd left hours ago, and finally met her on Thursday, when she told me. In any case, I've put in an application with Hillman, where Mom works, to work in the warehouse for the summer. Mom says I've got a good chance of getting the job, but to still bike around looking for more applications. Applying for work sucks.
-Finally, I'll note that I've been doing a blitzkrieg of work on my font Newt, and I hope to have all the weights ready for selling sometime this summer; maybe I can at least make some money before I go to Iowa.