Remembering the kids from '88
- col-leslie-pearce-keating
- July 3, 2023
- 618
I remember how nervous I felt when I joined my “kids” at Coccia House several Fridays ago. Would they remember me? Would I remember them? Would we recognize each other after 35 years apart?
My heart was knocking in my chest as I drove to the landmark restaurant. By the time I approached the back door, four or five former students nearly tackled me. I was at the Wooster High School’s 35th reunion, and I couldn’t have been happier to see those smiling faces.
It all started months before when my speech team kids from long ago began to communicate. Should they come to the reunion? Where should they stay? I was on the thread of communication. That’s when I made the invitation to my girls: stay here at my house with me, I insisted.
Denise showed up first. Since her folks still live in the area, we had an evening visit at my house mid-week, then a luncheon with her mom Kathy the following afternoon. Kim came in on a flight on Thursday eve, so we had the whole evening to talk. We attended the first part of the reunion on Friday at Coccia House, and then Tina joined us on Saturday, following her son’s high school graduation back home.
While the girls stayed with me, I cooked. I did towels. I even went to check on them as they slept to make sure they were warm and cozy. During the day we lunched with friends; we talked on my back porch till we couldn’t stay awake any longer. I don’t think I stopped smiling for four straight days.
But I was still a bit nervous at Coccia on Friday. I didn’t have a name tag right away. I was relieved when I recognized some faces, hometown “kids” like Jennifer, Beth and Carolyn, and got a whole lot of hugs.
At one point, one of the speech team kids, Courtney, asked, “Do you go to all the reunions?”
“Oh no. I only go to the Class of '88’s reunion.”
“Why us?” she asked.
I didn’t know what to say. So I began to enumerate. “I saw you guys through all four years. I had such close relationships to so many kids in your class. When I think of your class, my eyes fill with tears because I had my first state champion in Tina Bucher. Because we were district champions in speech team for the fourth time that year. Because I resigned after receiving tenure that spring. Because so many of those students stayed in touch over the years.”
By the time I answered that question, I was very emotional. I remembered the communication with Tina when her first child was born. I remember taking my then-infant son to Kim’s house when he was born. I communicated with Denise about her news agency over Facebook.
Didn’t Linda leave a gift for me on the porch when my sweet Finnigan died last September? How long did Beth and I talk when we saw each other in TJ Maxx? Didn’t Carolyn say we needed to celebrate our collective early March birthdays together just last year? Wasn’t Mark a great speaker at Kiwanis years ago when I went to hear his talk? And Jennifer and I are such great friends, and she is such a sweetheart. Also, didn’t I go to dinner with Drew when he moved back home? And the stories continued.
Thanks to Facebook, I learned of Kim’s house being hit by two hurricanes down in Fort Myers. I learned of Steve’s work as a minister and was so proud of him. I watched so many kids of my “kids” graduate remotely. I even saw Denise’s new grandbaby.
And then those kids began telling me what they remembered about me from back when. I was 26 when I came to Wooster for the speech and drama job. Many kids said I looked like Madonna in those days. What they didn’t know was that wild hairstyle was a mistake made by my new hairdresser, not a planned platinum do I’d wanted. Many “kids” talked about my yoga classes and breathing exercises to help them deal with stage fright and nerves. Others talked about the long talks we had when they were young and needed a mentor. All I remembered was how deep my love was for all of them.
I said goodbye to most of my former students on Friday at Coccia House. Kim left earlier on Sunday than Tina, who I didn’t have to part with until dinnertime. My house was awfully quiet Sunday night after she left, until the messages started to appear in my inbox. Yes, thankfully, they had all gotten home safe.
Thanks for the memories, Class of '88. I promise I’ll never, ever forget you.
Leslie Pearce-Keating can be emailed at leslieannpearce@gmail.com.