When does a party become a bash? And when does a bash become a bashment? Well, I don't think this one did but I can't be sure as it is the first "winter bashment" party I've ever attended or more accurately, chaperoned. Friday night was indeed the Senior Bashment--an event held in the gym featuring "Seniortinis." "Mudslides" and other cleverly disguised sugary-non alcholic beverages designed to make the students feel that they were entering the world of adulthood without breaking the law. There were two dj's spinning off what in effect was a musical race war--hip hop or a lighter, twangy latino fare-neither audible at their preferred volume anyway. We ordered about thirty pizzas which we were unable to give away because we hadn't considered the typical teenager party behavior which meant that the pizza got cold and the dance floor was empty for the first hour and a half while the bleachers were warmed and everyone checked each other out. The cheerleaders ran around in their uniforms preparing for their half hour stunt show which came out oddly in the middle of the dance party. The boys walked around wearing sunglasses and posturing their chains and hats and baggies while the girls pranced by in tight clothes and decked out hair do's. Eventually the bumping and grinding began and let me just say that there were postures held and moves created that I would never even attempt in the privacy of my own home. The circle of girls "backing it up" became impossible to survey because they were walled in by the on-looking envious masses. Occasionally, one of the more veteran teachers would dance through the crowd touting her umbrella and poke a few bodies apart. I washed my hands compulsively, worked the bathroom shift once or twice and stuck it out at concessions. The seniors planned the event themselves and had decided to call the king and queen the frost pimp and his queen but after a bunch of angry teachers they changed those terms to something else. They forgot about nominating someone until the bitter end, and the one boy who came decked out in his fubu fab wore his tilted red-velvet crown gleefully on his head as he kissed the three remaining teachers on the cheeks and said goodnight. He is indeed a ghetto king and a heart breaker.
The raffling off a a sidekick was another highlight and the winner was the envy of all.
Still, there were more cops and security officers on hand than was neccessary and the party was anything but wild. Much tamer than suburban after prom parties if you ask me. Well, maybe not the dancing, but certainly the males. Mostly, I saw little gentlemen buying their dates sodas and politely taking their hand to the dance floor. And of course when the hip hop alternated to the merengue and salsa you could see the years of dancing at family gaherings pay off because some of our kids can reallly shake it. My white hips sure as hell can't move like that. The security guards were getting into the action--they couldn't help themselves and they are all pretty good dancers too. Somehow, the whole event felt innocent and sweet just as our students can reveal themselves to be underneath all the sadness and fear. Oh, yeah, I suppose that isn't totally true as a few of the spring pregnancies were there dancing in white. An odd, but somehow appropriate part of this high school picture.