Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville Times belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville Times, its staff or publishers)

I was very proud to hear my son’s name called at his high school graduation ceremony. Two down, one to go.

I’m sure my dad was proud when he heard my name read years ago at Dilboy Stadium as I graduated from the class of 1971. The only thing different was, my son’s name was read in alphabetical order and mine wasn’t. My poor folks are sitting in the audience on a nice hard plank, as the A, B, and Cs are read. Then came the E’s! They skipped right over my name.

You can imagine what went through my parents’ minds. “I knew he wasn’t going to graduate!” So, I’m sitting there like a dope looking around trying to figure out what happened. Finally my name was called LAST!

It was the final zinger by the vice principal who hated me. It was his last hurrah, his last chance to get back at me for being a rabble-rouser. Hey, I couldn’t help it if I had the heart of an activist back then. It was winter and there was no heat in the school and they expected us to sit there with our coats, hats and gloves on shivering. Then they were enforcing a strict, unfair dress code that we were sick of. Oh, did I mention it was 1969? Yes, we were hippies and we did what hippies did back then … we demonstrated. We walked out of school and protested in front, complete with cops, TV stations, and newspaper reporters.

Also, in 1969 we formed a group called The Committee of Concerned Students and published our own newspaper called The Inside Agitator. We chose the name Inside Agitator because the school administration said we must have had an “inside agitator” prompting us to stage the walkouts and demonstrations. Believe me, there were none.

I can honestly say that I really believed in what we were doing. We couldn’t wear dungarees, our hair couldn’t touch our collar, girls had to wear skirts (see photo). We had had enough. The whole world was picketing, demonstrating and walking out so we did too! I have to admit that it was a real rush being part of that huge walk out. None of us had ever done anything like that before. And, of course, I had to be right up front with my signature big mouth. “Come on … let’s walk out … no heat no school…” The girls were also sick of having to wear skirts to school. I think the final straw was when the heat failed and their legs were freezing!

I’ll never forget the vice principal’s finger pointing in my face as he shouted “Wait until I tell your father!” When we walked out of our classes the administration got very nervous. We were not violent but they had never seen anything like it before. Kids thinking for themselves. A bunch of students chanting “we want pants” and “we want heat” posed a new dilemma for them, so they called the cops. And then, like I said, the newspapers and TV stations came. It just fed the excitement. I think I turned my head away so my dad wouldn’t see me on the 6 o’clock news.

The vice principal DID get back at me at graduation. He gave my family and me a huge scare, and an embarrassment that I still feel today. I must say the guy got me good! Bravo and touché. And after all those years I’d like to say that my Somerville High School years were among the best years of my life. I got my diploma and may I say that it’s proudly on display … in a box someplace in my cellar.