Chapter 11

“Welcome everyone, teachers, students, parents and others. C. L. Chennault Memorial High School has a proud tradition of excellence, endurance, and victory. To best demonstrate that, we have a short movie about our namesake, and the history we preserve,” announced my new vice principal to the audience of about 90 adults, and a two hundred and fifty or so kids.

The lights lowered, and a projector began playing across the screen mounted above the stage. The intro was, a large ‘Welcome to C. L. Chennault Memorial High School’

It took about 15 minutes to cover how after the attack at Pearl Harbor in 1941, General Chennault’s Crimson Tigers were the first American fighter pilots to launch a counter attack on Japan itself, bombing a shipyard, just one week after Pearl Harbor using improvised and temporary landing strips set up behind the Japanese land forces in China.

That was followed by becoming such a thorn in the mouth of the Imperial Japanese army that hundreds of thousands of troops were pulled off most of the Pacific islands and sent into the meat grinder that China would become.

World History had covered most of this, but it still seemed like a lot of credit for one guy who didn’t even fly much. I’m sure it made the Pacific war easier, reducing the manpower required to retake the islands, but crediting him for helping the National Chinese government for stomping out Communism in Asia seemed a bit much.

The lights came back up to enthusiastic applause and a smiling vice principal.

“Thank you. That short video is just part of the history, guiding principles, and traditions that we focus on here at CLCMHS. In a moment, Mr Parker will lead the incoming freshman on a tour beginning with the freshman homerooms.”

A tall grey headed man with an impressive ponytail stood from the front seats and took his place in front of the stage.

Vice principal Differ continued, “Sophomore, Junior, and Senior students will be led by Mizz Kennedy. If you don’t know who your homeroom teacher is, both of these will have a list. If you don’t know which grade you are, please stay where you are so we can send you back to middle school,” he said, as he chuckled at his own joke.

Mr Parker called out, “Freshman students, please line up behind me, we will be heading out that door,” he projected, in a booming voice, and pointed at a side door, “Parents and adult companions of the freshman class, please line up behind the freshman and follow.”

We watched the gaggle of teens stream out the side door, followed by sets of overly excited parents.

Mizz Kennedy stepped forward, once the side door closed. “Excellent, now that the rabble is gone, please group up,” she said, her soft soprano carrying thru the auditorium.

“Sophomore’s on my right, Juniors in the center, and Seniors on my left,” she said, pointing at the floor in front of her at each location.

We few who remained, quickly sorted ourselves into the requested groups. She gave us a quick overview, then began, “Since you are new students, I’m going to assume that you don’t know much about our campus. Homerooms are divided into the four quadrants of the campus, divided by grade. Homeroom is always the first class of the day. On half days you will be either assigned to your afternoon or morning track. That is, you will attend just your morning classes, or just your afternoon classes, after you attend an abbreviated homeroom class. Then you will go home, or at least elsewhere. Lunch is not served on half days, as classes will end at 11:30.

“Now before you get too excited about that, there are only two scheduled half days, one in October, and the other near the end of the school year. Once in a great while we do have a half day due to snow.

“Now I’m going to point at you, and you will tell me your name. Let’s begin with you,” she said pointing at my only sophomore companion.

“James Kirk, but everybody just calls me Captain,” he said in a soft slow southern drawl.

“And where do you hail from Mr Kirk.”

“Poe Toe Oh klah ho mah, ma’am,” he said, pronouncing each syllable as a separate word.

She made a note, and pointed at me, “Sam Atwood,” I told her.

She glanced up at Aunt Joan, “And where do you come from?”

“All over, but most recently I was in North Bend Nebraska.”

“Any relation to Joan there behind you?”

“My paternal Aunt.”

“Afternoon, Nancy,” Aunt Joan greeted her.

She nodded at me, but smiled at Aunt Joan. Then she pointed at the first of six Juniors, and they introduced themselves. The most interesting was a stunning African American, she must have been six foot two, and gorgeous all the way up. “I’m Otrera Bixby, from Georgia,” she said, introducing herself.

Finally they got to the lone pair of Seniors, obvious identical twins, both standing there looking equally bored. “I’m Cain, and the youngster is Abel,” said one of them soft enough that I couldn’t tell which.

“Save the best for last, we are the Nichols, and twin brothers from California,” said one of them, probably Able from the context.

“Well I’m Mizz Kennedy, and I’m from here, so let’s get on our way,” she said, and headed out a door opposite the previous group.

We headed to the sophomore section of campus first, and Captain and I discovered we had homerooms next to each other. “I really am named James Tiberius Kirk,” he told me.