A class of union and reunion.

Saturday, I attended the reunion of the Walnut Hills Class of 1977. I remember this class well. It was my 10th year of teaching and my seventh at Walnut Hills. Of the 400 plus students in the class, I taught nearly everyone. In 1974-75, I taught English 10 Advanced. The next year, the English 11 teacher retired, and I took over English 11 Advanced. So, I had many of the same students.

For a teacher, the advantages were amazing—I knew everyone’s name, talents, and skills. I knew the parents; I knew the previous teachers. For the kids—maybe the situation was not so great. I often wondered if they needed a different perspective. Would they benefit from a different teaching style?

Did I mention that I also taught Journalism both years? And also a few “quarter classes” in science fiction, Shakespeare, and media? And, of course, I had a study hall with 100 more. Many also worked with me on the school newspaper, and with my fellow-teacher, Mrs. Conver, and me on the yearbook.

When I pulled up to the parking area, a beautiful porche pulled in next to me. I immediately recognized the driver. I had a photo of four boys with me, taken at an event back in 1976. He was one of them! Then, within a few minutes, I found two more of those kids (kids? Now they are almost 60.)

Funny how names from 40 years ago come back.

At first, I considered not attending. It was their reunion, not mine. Would they really want to see an old teacher? Then, I remembered my 50th reunion. My favorite teacher attended, and I was thrilled to reconnect with her. So I went. And I realized how much the class of 1977 appreciated my attending. And I knew also how much I gained from the experience.

The most impressive thing about Walnut Hills grads is not their success. Yes, all are college grads, all have amazing careers, all are leaders in their fields. But the most impressive quality is their diverse make-up and their friendship with one another. Black, white, and oriental; gentile and Jew—all laughing and hugging and chatting together. I look at the reunion pictures posted on Facebook—most show the friendship between graduates from different races, religions, ethnic backgrounds, and Cincinnati neighborhoods. The committee in charge reflected that same heterogeneous quality, and what an amazing job they accomplished!

So thanks, Class of 1977, for all the hugs, the smiles, the suggestions for my pleasure reading, and the photos. Thanks for lifting my spirits. Thanks for giving our nation a model for love and friendship.