As the end of the school year approaches, it becomes time for the final presentations. And the annual awards.

Last night was Fine Arts Night at the high school. The walls of the hallway outside the auditorium were covered with artwork drafted and painted by the students during the past nine months. En masse, it looks just the same, from one year to the next. The same colours, the same sketches of profiles and faces. Only when you look at the individual pieces do you see works that you've never seen before.

We were here for youngest son's participation in the Jazz Band, and for the wife's godson's performance in the drama, Bang, Bang, You're Dead.

Along with the recognition of the graduating seniors in each field of artistic endeavor, the principal also presented an award of recognition, and gratitude, to the drama coach, who is stepping aside after 30 years of dedicated work at this school. Thirty years of guiding students, and thirty years of state and regional drama awards.

It seems the principal was once one of those drama students. One of those who left this community, to try and taste the outside world.

And came back.

One of the first jobs he tried to get when he came home was with the local police force. He passed the written and physical requirements, and was moved on to test his interviewing skills.

Inside the interviewing room, he was told, was a suspect (or, actually, a volunteer playing a suspect, of course) who had reportedly been apprehended in the alleyway behind a store that was recently burglarized. His task was to interview the suspect and gather the necessary investigative information.

The young man who would eventually become our high school principal walked into the interview room, then turned around and came back out.

The Police Department representative tried to explain the exercise again. But the new candidate replied, "That's Mr. M___ in there. He teaches drama and language arts at the high school."

"He didn't do it."

And he got the job.

We have finally entered the technological era in full force. After the Fine Arts show was over, rather than hanging around forever in the foyer waiting for youngest son to appear from backstage and tell us his plans for the evening...

We called him.

Yes, a cellular call to someone in the same building we were in. In fact, just one or two walls away. But it was better than the usual wait, when he sometimes leaves on his own, or wandering the rooms and hallwys looking for him.

Tonight was the annual awards presentation. Which we attended, since the youngest son was advised by letter he would be a recipient. (Turned out to be a band award... we're hoping next year he will be one of those on stage receiving scholarships.)

The school also inducted a new member to its Wall of Fame. This is not an annual event, and the Wall currently only has a dozen or so graduates on display. One of which I suspect would be a familiar face to most of you.

This newest inductee has been waiting 43 years since he graduated to be honored on the Wall. I liked the advice his family gave him on his acceptance speech.

"Keep the opening and closing remarks close together."

Almost always good advice.

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