Baptism in fire brings revelation

By James Norton

Welcome to the Liberator confession booth. This week, for my final editorial, I confess to the world my secret, my dark secret that rips away at my heart even as I desperately attempt to mask the changes wrought upon my mind.

Confession: I've found some school spirit. I've mellowed. I no longer pray for a ground-zero nuclear strike centered on the courtyard, and I've put away my master plan for dynamiting the water main. Truth be told, as a second semester Senior, I'm looking back on my four-year prison sentence with a lot less sickened despair than amused nostalgia; I guess everything seems better once it's over with. I don't know, the last few weeks I've been shocked by the dark feelings coursing over me; I've actually been ENJOYING West.

I guess it comes down to the elegant little details of my life here. Where else would I get to see my English teacher hold a stapler on his pants before doing a sexually suggestive dance? Where else do the students skip a week's worth of class to see their fellow students perform the fine arts? Where else are the students so free, the free-thinkers so plentiful, the women so lusty? And the men, of course. The men are lusty, too. I don't need anyone thinking I'm sexist. And it's not that I know from experience that the men are lusty, either; it's all hearsay. From my women friends. I don't need anyone thinking I'm bisexual. Not that there's anything wrong with bisexuality! Lord, no. I love a good bisexual, now and then.

Which reminds me; where else would the environment be this politically correct? Allright, UW-Madison, but we're getting sidetracked here.

West's an island inside of an island, and in my humble opinion, as far as the Madison area goes, it's the finest high school you could possibly serve your four-year sentence at. if you ever start having doubts about the quality of education at West High school, and the intelligence of your peers, do what I did: spend an hour at McFarland HS.

This is a place small enough for the principal to not just make the skip calls himself, but to also drive over to your house with both of the members of the McFarland police force so that your parents understand the severity of your crime.

And if you want to understand McFarland's student body, take that really loud dumb guy a couple rows ahead of you. You know. Backward baseball cap when he can get away with it. He's a bodybuilder. He watches his share of sports and then some, and he'll probably take his promdate to a romantic dinner at "Hooters". Allright, now make this guy, say, 25% dumber, and put a McFarland letter jacket on him. Clone him 350 times. BINGO, 1/2 of their student body. The girls are the same, except that they're fernale, usually weigh a lot less, and they read "Sassy" magazine when they feel like getting into some really heavy reading. And that's your student body. No Monty Python Club, no WestWord, no Pick On Libby Day or Colucci Gallery; no Fine Arts week, no Free Thought Club, no Tapestry, nothing.

Memorial's a little better, but hey, they're MEMORIAL. Not really that great. West's got some stuff going for it; when you start to feel fed up with high school, when you start to drown in the sea of crap your parents, teachers and idiot administrators are pushing you through, just think: at any other high school, it'd be worse. Then join a club; get into drama, or CEO, or Amnesty International, or even the Liberator. It's the clubs and fine arts that make the school tick; hell West is practically run by the students, when you get right down to it. So next time you're bitching about this place, contemplate McFarland and think that even diehard slackers like myself have changed their minds about this place.

It's been a great four years, folks, and I'd like to thank everyone who's enjoyed the Liberator, and everyone who's supported us with time, money, or material; you've been a really great audience. I'd like to thank my teachers, who for the most part have been patient, entertaining, and professional. And, finally, I'd want to thank Libby for trying so hard to pretend she doesn't hate the Liberator and myself and for giving us so much free ammo. Anyway, the show's going to go on without me, though, so do what you can for the Liberator next year; I'd love to think something I helped survive actually made things a litte better for West in the long run. And maybe I'll see you at the 10-year reunion.

Maybe.

– Jim Norton, Class of '94