1990s PCHS

 

We Found a 1990s High School Yearbook. The Predictions Inside Are a Perfect Time Capsule.

1.0 Introduction: The Allure of the High School Time Capsule

There is a unique and potent magic in stumbling upon an old high school yearbook. It’s a time machine made of paper and ink, instantly transporting us back to a world of locker-lined hallways, fledgling romances, and the kind of friendships that felt indestructible. As we flip through the pages, we see familiar faces frozen in time, but the most fascinating sections are often the ones where we tried to predict the future.

What did we think the future would hold? How did our dreams, both silly and serious, define us? Recently, a collection of senior magazines from a high school in rural West Virginia in the early 1990s surfaced, offering a perfectly preserved time capsule. The physicality of the documents is an immediate portal to the past: the neatly typed pages, the slightly fuzzy texture of the photocopier, the earnest, hand-drawn illustrations. Inside, we find a chronicle of a specific era's hopes, humor, and anxieties, written by the students who lived them.

2.0 Takeaway 1: The Ambitions Were Hollywood-Sized

Despite the small-town setting, the imagined futures of these students were anything but provincial. A narrative section titled "10-YEAR PREDICTIONS" envisions a class reunion in 2002 where former students have achieved national and international acclaim. These grand, media-saturated dreams, captured in a local document, reveal a generation whose ambitions were shaped by the larger-than-life stories they saw on screens and in magazines.

In a separate section, likely penned by faculty, the predictions took on a more direct, and often humorous, tone. Together, they paint a picture of Hollywood-sized aspirations:

• David Smith was predicted to appear on the cover of "People" magazine as "one of the 10 best-dressed men in America."
• Hope Kinnison's fashion designs, including "well-bottoms and elephant-leg jeans in pastel colors," were imagined on the front of "Vogue."
• Jayson Cain was predicted to be "Modeling for Calvin Klein."
• April Wanless was foreseen as having "Finished recording her 5th platinum album."
• Donald Epperson was pictured as a future "Pitcher for Atlanta Braves."

3.0 Takeaway 2: They Predicted Future Leaders (and a Few Rogues)

The predictions weren't all glamour and celebrity. Many students were imagined in positions of significant power and civic duty, revealing a deep respect for their peers' potential. Cynthia Broce, for example, was predicted to be the "First female candidate for the office of President of the United States," with a promise to "get the nation out of debt." On a more local scale, Missy Jordan was seen as a hometown hero, predicted to become "the first woman fire chief in Pocahontas county."

These earnest predictions of civic leadership exist alongside more audacious forecasts that reflect the action-movie zeitgeist of the early 90s. While some classmates were destined for the White House, others were imagined on the global stage in a very different capacity: Martin Coleman was cast as a "Military Commander in search of Saddam," and Jason Craddock was predicted to be "Trying to capture the Colombian Drug Lord." This blend of genuine admiration and pop-culture fantasy offers a perfect window into the era's specific cultural influences.

4.0 Takeaway 3: The Superlatives Were Unflinchingly Honest

The "Superlatives" section offers a candid, and by today's standards, surprisingly blunt glimpse into the social landscape of the school. Long before sanitized, participation-trophy culture became the norm, these awards were disarmingly direct. Nothing illustrates this better than one of the standout categories:

BIGGEST REDNECK Trampas Hammons Susan McKenney

This frankness existed alongside traditional superlatives like "MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED" (Ben Ziegler, Lisa Sharp), "BEST DRESSED" (David Smith, Hope Kinnison), and the classic "BIGGEST APPLE POLISHER" (Clinton Nick, Dottie Malcom). The "BIGGEST REDNECK" category, however, offers a deeper cultural insight. In a rural West Virginia community, this label was likely more complex than a simple insult; it could have been an inside joke, a statement of pride, or a complex marker of identity. It reflects a cultural moment with a less filtered sense of humor about its own social archetypes.

5.0 Takeaway 4: The "Last Wills" Are a Diary of Inside Jokes

In the "Last Will and Testament" sections, seniors "bequeathed" items, memories, and advice to their friends and underclassmen. While the specific context is lost to time, the bequests themselves paint a vivid picture of teenage life—friendships forged over car rides, shared snacks, and the small moments that felt monumental.

A few of the most evocative and humorous "wills" include:

• One student leaves Phillip Chenoweth's Journalism class his "manhood (thanks for the conversations)."
• Another bequeaths "the ability to call a turkey" to a friend.
• A third leaves behind a "pair of stilts" and an "old junk truck to get scratched."
• Many messages were written in a special shorthand, like "20MC," which translated to the mysterious phrase, "THE CURSE OF THE GARGOYLE."

These inside jokes, though intensely personal to their time and place, speak a universal language. They are artifacts of adolescent friendship, reminding us of a time when a shared laugh or a simple memory was the most valuable thing you could pass on.

6.0 Conclusion: A Mirror to the Past

These humble, type-written documents are far more than just old paper; they are a mirror reflecting a particular moment in time, capturing universal dreams, anxieties, and friendships through the distinct cultural lens of the early 1990s. From dreams of presidential campaigns to bequeathing a "pair of stilts," these pages remind us that while times change, the heart of the teenage experience remains remarkably consistent.

Looking back, what was the wildest 10-year prediction you and your friends had for your own futures?