Kepley School, Life, and Lessons

Kepley, looking SW from Kansas Ave.

That adjoining hallway is left-center. I thought the old gym was 

   demolished but it appears in the background. Looks almost 

                                     same after 45 years.

Time passes and we all learn to deal with it. Memory seems a gift, a salve along the way (except when it isn't.) Today I am thinking of those years at Kepley School, that place straddling Colorado Street that served, in 1977-'79 as “Junior High.” We went there after Joyce and before High School. It was a big change.

I remember being shy in the 7th grade, trying to stretch out of myself and not doing so well at it. The gathering in the main lobby before class was always a thing, forgettable as so much is, except for one notable encounter with a new student that sticks in my mind. We would get new students now and then: parents transferring in and out, moves for other reasons. I always felt for these kids but it seemed hard to properly befriend them. More on that later.

I almost always walked to school, it being a mere 10 blocks from my house on N. Glenn. The route was basic: Sykes to Main to Kansas to School, with the normal shortcuts and detours to keep an active boy active. I usually walked with my older sister who was on her way to High School six blocks or so further on (younger siblings were still in Hickok.) I remember all but nothing of those walks, only that they happened most days, and that sometimes we would stop at the Dart-In on the way home.

Kepley was new and mysterious to this 12-year old boy. I think 1977 was the year they finished a hallway tying the new cafeteria area with the main, original building. I had been there in the summer for band practice with Mr. G (can't remember the full name). That newer building also housed, as I recall, vocal class with Mr. Young, Art Class (can't remember the kind teacher's name), Home-Ec with Mrs. Chadd, and of course the cafeteria.

It was in that adjoining hallway, at the start of my 8th grade year, I had one of those coming alive moments. Still trying to stretch out of my shyness, I was walking along toward class and decided I would do the impossible and greet someone. I still remember who it was and see the whole thing for the change that it was. “Hi __________.” I had done it, stepped out of myself! The world was new!

Kepley was so many things. Sports of course, with wrestling workouts in the old, smelly

The old gym as I remember it.

gym. PE had a lot of fun games and I always loved it, even the archery. There were 8 classes to fill in those days including electives like shop or band, vocal, language arts, art, and home ec. I remember laboring through verb conjugations with Mr. Fast and joining in the torment that must have been daily for the librarians. Most of us didn't mean to be annoying but I am sure we were.

I remember one effective first-day-of-class introduction. After all the normal explanations the teacher brought out the paddle, sat down next to the desk and then crossed one leg up on the other, the sole of his shoe a ready target for the paddle. “If you cheat in class there will be consequences!” – and he would slap the sole of his shoe with the paddle. “If you lie or steal someone's things we will deal with it!” Wham. I had no problem with the teacher or his style. He wanted a well-ordered class and, as best I remember, we had one! And I seriously doubt he ever used the paddle for more than an object lesson. It worked!

There were many good teachers – they were all good to my mind now, for they were giving themselves for us, and that's no small thing. And I remember something we called “Lyceum,” a fancy old word meaning a gathering in the auditorium for a special speaker. I (almost) always enjoyed these. One time we had a guy from NASA who showed us a machine that could count grains of sand as you poured them out of a bag onto the sensor. Another was an escape artist, slipping out of handcuffs while he talked casually. He later extricated himself from a strait jacket to our amazement. Neat stuff.

And there was STUCO. I remember seeing the sign, something like “STUCO needs you to run for office.”

“What's STUCO?” I asked an unknown 8th grader. “It's Student Council. You should run.”

It was John Hastert. He helped me make signs out of news print paper and we posted them around the school. “Randy Huff for Rep.” I had zero idea what Student Council was, but John said I should run so I did. The election happened and I was befuddled to find myself a representative in some capacity for the 7th grade. We met in a common room that I think adjoined the shop area. The principal met with us and we talked of student leadership which involved, I learned, serving in concessions at home games. At the end of the year we enjoyed a bus trip to Wichita.

There are books to be written of all one learns in school. As important as the classroom was, for good or ill we learned maybe more about life outside of it. This lesson never left me after one new student came. It's rough being new and some of us were less than welcoming. He looked a little odd – don't we all sometimes? – and we picked on him. His first day at school he was in a white dress shirt, untucked, and we made fun of him. “Whitey!” we called him. I can still see him that first day in the lobby, off to the side, timid.

Later that spring I saw him on a street near my house. He was pushing his bike and attached to it by a string was a lawnmower. He was going through the neighborhoods to mow lawns. I ran over to him to say hello, forgetting my previous ill-treatment. As I approached him I saw him withdraw, a look of reluctance and concern, even a hint of disdain for me, given my prior cruelty. I suddenly remembered, somehow realizing I should tread carefully.

I had only meant to greet him and see how he was doing, and so I did. We chatted, and he warmed up a bit. I may even have apologized, and should have, though I doubt I did. Nonetheless, he went on his way and we were at least casual friends from then on. The encounter remains a life lesson. How we treat others really matters. Self-centeredness can make us cruel and oblivious. Something like repentance is needed, and forgiveness. Somehow my friend forgave me, and I am glad for the lesson learned.

There are a thousand other lessons from life and Kepley, all woven into so many good memories. I am grateful for the gift of life, and the many blessings of those Ulysses years.