Located in north side Indianapolis, Shortridge High School had a tradition of excellence. In addition to usual high school offerings, it taught six foreign languages, ten semesters of math, had an art gallery filled with work by professional local artists, a student run radio station, and the oldest (est. 1898) student written daily four-page newspaper delivered to each student’s homeroom desk.
My Alma Mater proclaimed, “We were ranked among the best,”—a boast affirmed by the weight Ivy League admission offices extended to our graduates’ applications.
Enrollment during my years (1954-1958) reached 3,000. The school was big, and could be socially cliquish. It could be difficult to find your niche, or more appropriately be accepted by those already in a niche to which you wanted to join. Shortridge could be busy, crushing, deflating, and exhilarating all at the same time. It could be a toxic atmosphere for some. Quite a load for a teenaged population!
On August 8, 1998, Shortridge alums along with those of two other rival north side high schools, Broad Ripple and North Central, joined to celebrate their 40th reunions. Friday night each school had its own private celebration. Saturday combined the three student bodies for the concluding get-together.
I had moved from Indianapolis to Washington D. C. shortly after college graduation and thus played no role in organizing the reunion, but I became aware of what I thought was an interesting, but in retrospect, obvious phenomenon associated with high school reunions. Interest in attending was totally proportional to each student’s level of participation in the total high school experience. Those who had a successful and participatory experience couldn’t wait to attend. For some, high school was the most unpleasant experience of their life. Reliving it by attending the reunion was the last place on earth they wanted to be!
One such person was Jane Miller. She was not very involved in Shortridge but was friends with one of the committee organizers who relentlessly encouraged Jane to attend. Jane had all the excuses— “I didn’t have many friends. I wasn’t in many activities, etc., etc.”
Finally, she relented. Jane Miller, Shortridge Class of ’58, planned to attend her 40th reunion!
It was reunion night. Still apprehensive, she stopped in the women’s room to freshen up and prepare herself for what was coming—whatever that would be. A voice behind her said, “Hi Jane. I remember that beautiful piano solo you played on the senior day program.” Others greeted her. “Jane, you and I sat together in homeroom. And we had such a wonderful time together on the Senior trip to New York. Tell us all about your life now.”
Later, Jane said to her friend on the committee, “They remembered me!”
She realized that she had made a difference and that she had made a favorable impression…as a person.
In recalling this incident, I remembered a great quote from Robert F. Kennedy. It had to do with his first exposure to the outside world as a representative of his brother. He said, “Every time a man stands for an idea or acts to improve the lot of others…he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope…” and he concluded with how such an action can make positive change in the human condition.
Ratcheting down Senator Kennedy’s sentiments to a far less consequential level, I thought about our everyday life. Do we not all send forth our own “ripples” defining who we are and what we are to all with whom we have contact?
Jane learned forty years later that she had a pleasant impact on people far beyond her realization. She may not have changed the world, but she would have felt far more comfortable about a segment of her life had she realized this earlier.
How about your life? What kind of ripples have you sent?