Beyond the Byline: Going back to school is a good thing

WILKES-BARRE — There was a time when “back to school” meant something.

It meant that summer playtime was over and schooltime was upon us.

It meant that it was time to learn and move on to our next challenge.

Back then, the same kids we played with all summer attended the same schools. There were no major adjustments — it was what life was about and we accepted it.

Heck, we even enjoyed it.

So we switched from wearing shorts and t-shirts every day, to wearing our new school clothes. We were taught by teachers who were always dressed up and we were respectful of them.

Learning was fun. Homework was sometimes a bit difficult because it would restrict our after-school playtime.

But we endured. We walked to school in the morning and walked home for lunch. We walked back down for the afternoon session, and we walked home after school. We ate dinner with our families at the same table and then, after homework was completed, we had time to go outside to play.

This system worked — but it would all change.

You see, small town life changed in 1966 with the forced consolidation of schools, merging together to form large school districts that required busing students and, well, it all went downhill from there.

And with it, rivalries in Wyoming Valley died. At least, as far as the rivalries that had lived on in high school athletics for generations.

The year 1966 was the last year for Plymouth High School and many other schools in Wyoming Valley. The West Side high schools — Larksville, Edwardsville, Kingston, Forty Fort, Swoyersville and Luzerne, along with the towns of Courtdale and Pringle, became Wyoming Valley West.

The first year of the “monster” jointure — 1966-67 — created three high schools — Plymouth Area, Kingston Area and Forty Fort Area. The three schools competed separately in athletics, but they all graduated from Wyoming Valley West. In 1967-68, everybody attended one high school, and the rest is history.

We can argue forever whether or not this was a good thing, but it did come at a steep cost. What was lost were the rivalries and school spirit that were a way of life in small towns everywhere.

Whether it was Plymouth versus Nanticoke, West Pittston versus Exeter, Kingston versus Coughlin, Meyers versus GAR, or Avoca versus Moosic, rivalries were to live and die for — especially on Thanksgiving Day.

Talk to anybody who attended those pre-consolidation rivalry games and you will hear the best stories.

It was a special thrill to walk down to Huber Field in Plymouth to attend the annual Nanticoke-Plymouth football game. The place would be packed. School spirit was evident on both sides of the stadium.

Anybody who went through a school consolidation felt the ill effects. We all lost our high school experience and we were forced to adapt to a new system that cost all of us something — whether it be participation in athletics, academic ranking or social dominance.

We were thrust into situations that made it difficult, at best, to even get to school, let alone get comfortable enough where we could feel like seniors are supposed to feel. With so many new students in our classes, we really never had time to get to know each other.

So, we have had to remember things about each other — where our classmates went to college, who they married, how many kids they had, grandkids, jobs, etc. — after the fact. It’s been a challenge to have to remember things we never had the chance to learn in the first place.

Noted lyricist Alan Jay Lerner once wrote: “Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot.”

In the 1950s and 1960s, we all grew up in our small Camelot-like towns. Don’t get me wrong, we enjoyed summers off as much as any other generation, but we were all-in on walking the halls of our hometown schools.

In Plymouth, the Junior High School was connected to Plymouth Senior High School — Ward P. Davenport. There was a bridge on the second floor that connected the two buildings. And it was one of the most beautiful campuses in the area — winding sidewalks, large trees that offered plenty of shade on hot days. It really was a picture postcard.

It was Camelot for us.

Then, after the Class of 1966 graduated, we lost our identity and we struggled to find a new one. We were now the Spartans and we wore burgundy and gold and we sang a new Alma mater and we tried — oh how we tried.

Looking back, we now know that this was our first taste of the real world — and disappointment. It also was a challenge for us to get along and become unified as the new era of consolidation began.

And we got through it.

We survived. We traveled our separate paths together somehow. We all share the same absence of what we once knew as Camelot — of small town pride, school spirit and familiar faces everywhere we turned.

We all were raised by a village of good people who always had our best interests at hand.

In Camelot, King Arthur said: “There are times when the only vacation spot in the world — is the past.”

He was so right.