I’m Still Doing Yearbook

It has been said that if you truly enjoy what you do, then no job is work. I’m not sure I’d go quite that far. No matter how much you like doing something, there are going to be times when it’s a slog. Still, the spirit of the saying is true enough. If you find something that you love to do, you just want to keep doing it.

At the end of 10th grade, I applied for and was accepted into my high school’s yearbook class for the following year. Sure, I’d worked on my 8th and 9th grade books in junior high, but that was very much yearbook on training wheels. High school was going to be the real deal. A deal that was going to be made that much more interesting by the fact that NONE of the staff who did my 10th grade book would be returning. Our staff would be all new.

We had three administrative positions: Louise* was the Editor, Silver was the Junior Editor, and I was the Business Manager (i.e. the utility “gofer” editor who also kept track of the money). We were all responsible for knowing how to do all the various parts of the book. This was no small task in the late 70s. Two words for you: no computers. So things like physically drafting the layout sheets, marking the photos for cropping and proportional sizing (on the back), typing the copy, and all the other fun stuff…we has to know how to do it so that we could both help the rest of the new staff as they were learning the nuts-and-bolts as well as jump in to help anyone when deadline time arrived (about one every six weeks or so). Just about the only thing we didn’t do was develop film.

Almost as soon as school started, we were hit with our first deadline: the color pages. We (the editors) and the theme staff had to come in on an off day (I don’t remember if it was a weekend or a holiday) to get the pages laid out and ready for the printers. So, here we were, not really knowing what we were doing, but we’re all completing actual work on deadline. It made for an interesting day.

The rest of the year was filled with interesting days. Not that I’m complaining. First, I always had a good reason for showing up: in a class of 28, only 4 were male…2 of whom were elsewhere more often than not. So, you do the math. All I can say is, despite the rare moments of grief, this was the single most enjoyable class I ever had. Ev-ver.

Anyway… I mentioned before that I was the gofer editor. That wasn’t a joke. When I was told I was going to be on yearbook, gofer was one of the jobs I was specifically told that I was being assigned. Since I didn’t have a section of the book I was responsible for, I was available for whatever was needed. For that junior-year book, what was needed most was typing. Since I not only had yearbook as a class (as did all the other staffers), I had a teacher’s aide period where I also worked on the book. A lot of that meant typing. Keep in mind, gentle readers, that when I was told I’d be a gofer, I was also told that I wouldn’t have to type (on a typewriter—remember, no computers meant no word processing). At the time, you see, I was just a two-finger hunt-and-peck typist. Typing speed was not something that I thought I’d ever need.

I ended up typing about a third of that first book. While it was a bit of a drudge, I took it as an opportunity. Even though I was glacially slow at first, I kept my fingers on the home keys as I typed up the copy. Over time I not only gained speed, but I became a touch-typist. Since I now use a keyboard to spew forth some 15,000 words a week on this blog alone, I’m forever grateful for that unwanted skill that yearbook gave me.

Yearbook taught me a lot more than typing. I learned how to format and lay out a publication. It wasn’t just about using non-repro blue pencils to mark up a layout sheet. It was about having photos “look into” a page. It was about putting the center of interest at an intersection of thirds. It was about looking at the layout’s content and seeing if it made sense. It also was about making sure there weren’t too many “floating” pictures (photos or artwork not physically touching another one) because beyond a certain number we had to pay extra.

It was about selling. From time-to-time, in an effort to get as many books sold as possible, I would storm the cafeteria during a lunch period, raving like a loon, being everyone’s friend, in an effort to get them to buy a book if only so that they could get me out of their face.Needless to say, I lost my fear of performing in front of crowds. If you can be that big of a fool and swallow down any morsel of shame that might still be lingering, you can pretty much write your ticket when it comes to being in front of crowds.

It was also about being the guy who makes the phone calls. Honestly, I’m still not a fan of that. I don’t have to work up my courage now like I did then with those first calls about bounced checks, but to this day I’m not a big fan of using the phone, especially for business stuff.

Most of all, though, it was about the people. I made a lot of friends in yearbook that I still have to this day. We had fun. Whether it was putting on a “Gong Show” (twice), or delivering donuts, or cleaning out a semi at a racetrack, we had fun. In regards to the book, since everyone had their own sections they were responsible for, I gained an understanding that you have to trust people to do their job.

Though it kept me very busy, especially during my senior year (I think I was doing yearbook more than I was in my other classes)…well, my life would have been much poorer had I not had the experience. As for the rest of my cast of loonies? I think this says it best:

I would rather be with the people of this town than with the finest people in the world.

— Mayor Deebs
Roxanne (1987)

Well, that’s all lovely, CJ, but what what do you mean that you’re still doing yearbook?

Yearbook required many skills from me: art, writing, layout, time management, responsibility, people skills, and even sports photography (when necessary, I was sent out to take pictures). These have been strong elements of just about everything I’ve done since.

I don’t think any better example can be made than the fact that I worked as a production (or art… po-tay-to po-tah-to) manager for the same papers twice. Despite having general managers who took advantage of the fact that I’d work my arse off to make the best papers I could, and thus twice let me burn-out, I loved that job (twice). Why? Basically because it was yearbook writ bolder.

You see, with that job I “got to” do layout, and art, and writing, and be a manager, and most importantly, have a team that I could trust to do their jobs and with whom I still have a continuing friendship. True, we were putting out more material in a week with fewer people than we did with yearbook in seven months, but the value of the experience was exactly the same. I’d probably do it again if I thought my body and brain could survive the ordeal.

The amazing thing is that young me thought yearbook would be an interesting way to blow off a couple of periods during the school day. It certainly was, but it was so much more. It was the foundation of several of my careers. Even this blog—the design perhaps more than the writing—is a result of what began almost a third of a century ago. I thought I was heading toward a career of scientific research. Instead, I’ve done yearbook most of my life. I’m not at all sorry. Sure, some of it may be due to wanting to recapture a bit of the spark of that 11th grade year I enjoyed so much, but mostly it’s because yearbook gave me work that I enjoy doing so much that I do it now for free (unless someone pays me, in which case I’ll be more than happy to do it for the money).

It was only a few years ago that I realized this connection of what I’ve done with my life to the days I spent in yearbook. It’s pretty clear in hindsight. In truth, none of it was planned. I just happened to fall into a niche that suited me. That might be the secret for having work that you enjoy. You take advantage of opportunities and grab on to the ones that make you happy. After all, opportunity rarely comes knocking at your door with a sledgehammer, it usually briefly flutters like a moth against your bedroom window screen before quietly flying off.