Comments from Walt Jungblut

What is you fondest memory from Rancho High?
* Aside from the razzing by my peers at being associated with the ROTC program during the dying (no pun intended) days of the Vietnam War, I suppose it would have to be my personal debacle at the state basketball championship in Reno, that I call Crime and Punishment (with apologies to Tolstoy). I traveled to Reno on the student council bus, while many smarter than I opted to travel independently, avoiding the school district's rules and regulations regarding student behavior. Upon reaching the cheap dank motel in Reno, (I believe it was the Mark Twain Motel with the cheap knotty-pine paneling, burn-holed carpet, and empties under the bed) I procured a pint bottle of Smirnoff vodka from Mike Pickett. I brought the bottle into the room and ran with it into the bathroom to get some cups. I returned into the bedroom while cracking the seal on the bottle, when all of a sudden, the student council advisor Mr. Cook entered the room. "Well, well, what do we have here Mr. Jungblut?", he asked with his eyebrows arched and his nose pinched. "Nothing", I stammered. He held his hand out and I surrendered by ill-gotten contraband, whereby he promptly emptied it's contents into the bushes outside the room. I figured that was the end of that and the $15.00 loss was the only hard lesson learned. Nope...Mr. Cook ratted on me to Mario Monaco, the principal and later to my regret, also The Grand Inquisitor and axe-man. I was placed on house arrest. While my classmates were cruising Virginia Street, I had to settle for solitary confinement. I was notified that Mr. Monaco wanted me to go back to Las Vegas on one of the losing team's buses (Clark) but I suppose there was some shread of decency in Mr. Monaco as he let me stay to see the tournament, but I had to watch it sitting next to him, under his constant disapproving gaze. I returned to Las Vegas on the council bus satisfied that I got to see our team win. I went to school that Monday and my homeroom teacher looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. "What are you doing here?", she asked. "Attending class.", I stupidly replied. "Nope, your on the RPC list. Your suspended." I muttered an explative and went home, knowing that I was going to be drawn and quartered not only by Mr. Monaco but by my parents, to whom I conveniently forgot to tell. I returned to school on Tuesday with my mother in tow. Mr. Monaco was polite and accommodating to my mom, while I got a vicious sneer as he beckoned us into his office. "It seems Walter got into a little bit of trouble this weekend, Mrs. Jungblut." he hissed. My mother made apologies and she swore that I would tow the line, and that I was sufficiently repentant for my misdeed, and that she would personally guarantee my conduct for the remainder of my senior year. She had assured him that I had been severely chastised and further punishments awaited me at home. Alas, Mr. Monaco was not appeased by my mother's acts of contrition and stories of personal horror that were to await me at home. "Mrs. Jungblut, we have to make an example of this behavior and I believe that some form of punishment is warranted for Walter in this matter.", he said, while leaning back in his comfy principal chair, his hands in a pyramid pressed to his lips. "My punishment is thus," he said, glaring at me with clenched teeth, "No senior class activities for Walter for the remainder of the school year! No prom! No senior class trip! No participation in commencement!" he intoned with the malicious look of a master flogger, ready to administer the first lash. I reluctantly agreed to this draconian punishment, probably just to get the hell out of his office. To this day I still can't believe the price I paid for my youthful indiscretion, and to a greater extent, in the price I paid for that stupid pint of vodka! What an idiot! Jerk! Stupid Walt!

Was there a teacher that made an Impact on your life? If so how?
* Not a teacher from Rancho, but a teacher from J.D.Smith Junior High, a school quite a few of us went to. Mrs. Deborah K. Shillinglaw was an English teacher who whipped an appreciation of culture into my soul. She believed that I had acting and writing talent. She encouraged me to express myself in writing and to cultivate my appreciation of the written and spoken word. For this I will always honor her memory.

At this time in your life, what is your life's desire?
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Other comments made by this classmate
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