Opinion & Comment

Graduation Pranks In Appalachia

APPALACHIAN NOTEBOOK - Steve Oden

High school principals dread May and June. In most of Appalachia, these months mark a headlong rush toward the end of school. The calendar includes testing, proms, award banquets, guidance counseling, spring sports, field trips, and the inevitable attempt by members of the senior class to set a new high-water mark with their graduation prank.

Of course, it is a point of honor to surpass last year’s senior class prank. Such one-upmanship has been going on for generations, with each group of inventive seniors trying to out-do their predecessors. Their imaginative and often mysterious work requires creative and comedic talent, detailed planning, and precise timing.

Outright vandalism is crude and without merit. Pranks should not involve irreversible property damage, and under no circumstances should the seniors’ parting shot put anyone in physical danger.

In other words, the most memorable senior pranks are those that have folks scratching their heads and wondering, “How’d they do it?”

Some of the best pranks come from our region. Appalachians are inventive people. We always have been able to do more with less. We also possess knowledge of basic mechanics and engineering, and we have ready access to barnyards. These skills and resources can be drawn upon to create classic pranks.

“A really good prank brings not just laughter, but a visceral satisfaction and a kind of awe that does not fade with time nor diminish with retelling,” writes Neil Steinberg in his 1992 St. Martin’s Press book about the tradition of campus pranks. The title, “If at All Possible, Involve a Cow,” harkens to the days of yesteryear when livestock was an integral part of the students’ bag of tricks.

Our grandfathers made famous the prank of hoisting a mule or milk cow on the roof of the schoolhouse, or sneaking a goat into the principal’s office. They also perfected the rapid disassembly of horse-drawn buggies or Model T Fords and the miraculous rebuilding of these vehicles inside a classroom.

Later – around the time my generation of Baby Boomers matriculated from high school – came a proliferation of water tower artists. Those daring painters climbed high to decorate standpipes with psychedelic flowers and Andy Warhol-style peace signs.

My own graduating class was credited with an art-nouveau prank involving the illustration of a naked woman’s torso in fluorescent pink paint on the side of a 500,000-gallon water storage tank. The culprits are still at large. One of them, in fact, is a policeman, and another is a writer… at least, this is what I am told by reliable sources connected to the 1971 event.

The tradition of senior pranks continues in the 21st Century. The only differences are that the tricks are often high-tech and co-ed, with young ladies just as likely to be participants. Seniors have hacked into school computer systems and played havoc with data. Phone systems have been hijacked. At one high school, a 20-ft. wide “For Sale” sign was stretched across the entrance, while the local newspaper published a classified ad in the real estate section hawking a home with 103 rooms, a cafeteria, and a gymnasium.

At an Appalachian village where I worked as a newspaperman, the downtown fountain was the target of repeated senior pranks. One night, it was filled with snapping turtles and catfish. When the aquatic critters were cleared by municipal workers, the pranksters came back the next night and dosed the gushing water with soap powders. Firemen had to hose down the three-story tall foam accumulation the next morning.

Garnering media coverage is a cherished goal of all pranksters. Imagine the delight of a small band of teenagers last week when a daily newspaper in South Appalachia reported their night’s work in a story headlined “Senior Prank Runs Afoul.”

They released chickens and 2,000 crickets in the hallways of the school. How the estimate of cricket numbers was made is not explained in the story, but the superintendent of education was quoted as saying the birds and bugs made “quite a mess.”

Lest readers accuse me of encouraging senior pranks in this column, let me point out that the tradition has continued for over 100 years and shows no sign of abating, despite improvement in school security systems, prank prohibition in student handbooks, police investigations, and the apprehension and punishment of guilty parties.

Pranks that cross the line between harmless but amusing practical jokes and criminal activity cannot be condoned. However, there is dwelling in the hearts of a few graduating seniors something that compels them to be remembered, even if anonymously. They are not content to go forward into the Real World without making a last effort to memorialize their passage.

They look at a water tank and see a blank canvas, ready for their creative attention. They can imagine the shock and awe on the faces of lunchroom workers when they find a 1962 Volkswagon Beetle inside the walk-in cooler. And, they can keep a straight face and calm demeanor even when being interrogated about chickens and crickets in the school halls.