DATE: Sunday, October 26, 1997              TAG: 9710240261

SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER      PAGE: 15   EDITION: FINAL 

COLUMN: TEEN TALK 

SOURCE: BY BARBARA ANTIS HIGH SCHOOL, CORRESPONDENT 

                                            LENGTH:   69 lines

SADLY ENOUGH, HIGH SCHOOL IS NOT SAFE FROM STUDENT THIEVES

Everyone likes easy money. But just how far some people will go to get it is disappointing. One of the first lessons kids learn from their parents is not to steal. It's even one of the Ten Commandments.

But that doesn't stop some people.

A couple weeks ago, as everyone was getting settled into the high school routine, finding the quickest way to lockers and classes and deciding where the most desirable seat is during lunch, I left my purse in the commons area. It contained about $60. Now, I'm not a complete idiot, the only reason I had that much money was because I was planning to stop at the bank after school.

Anyhow, by the time I realized my purse was missing, the damage had been done. I returned to where I had left my purse - under the table next to the crisp white walls of the lunchroom - only to find nothing. I ran to the office, getting dirty looks from the students I pushed aside in the hall.

Thankfully, my small black and brown handbag was found by one of the cafeteria workers. Unfortunately, that worker wasn't the first to handle it. All the money was gone, even the few pennies I had left in my change purse.

My heart sank into my stomach. Disbelief overtook me. I looked again into the navy folds of my wallet. There was one slip of paper, my white AAA card. I did the only thing I could. I cried.

Twelve hours of working at the pool wasted. Twelve whole hours! I'd been so good at saving my money to help pay off a new car, now this. Anger swelled in my throat. I fervently wished evil, inhuman things on whomever stole my money.

Alfreda Turner, an administrator, and Jackie MacPherson, a security guard, quickly rushed over to see what was wrong. Between heaving sobs I told them. They were very sympathetic and sent me down the hall to see Officer Richard Gallop to fill out a report.

There was still a chance my money could be found, he told me. My eyes blurred with tears as I tried to sign my name. Two video cameras had taped everyone's movement in the chalky white cafeteria. All I had to do was see Keith Hardison, a security officer.

I sighed with relief - enough anyway to work up some optimism about those cameras and to go to cross country that afternoon.

That night on the telephone, I cried to a couple of my friends, telling them what a huge injustice had been committed. I told the whole story, with vivid details. No one spared too much sympathy. It seemed like everyone I talked to had a story similar of something being stolen at school. It didn't help my quickly fading optimism.

The next day I saw Mr. Hardison during lunch. In his office was a huge TV with a VCR-like contraption on the side. Tapes labeled and dated were stacked on top. As he looked through the tapes my eyes drifted to the monitor. A sea of students had emerged, spilling into the hallways as the bell rang. I stared, wondering if one of them had taken my money. How could they? I wondered.

Using a large, round dial on the VCR, Mr. Hardison scrolled through the tape made the day my money was taken. He stopped when the correct time appeared on the screen. Because the cafeteria is so big, the camera is set off on an angle to scan a large portion of the room. My table was just barely off the screen. Disappointment washed over me as I realized how close we'd been, but yet no luck.

I left Mr. Hardison's office completely crushed. I knew it would take quite a bit of time to earn all that money back; with school in session I only worked occasionally on the weekends. But as I walked out the glass doors towards my car something else disturbed me. My incident wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was one more theft without any answers or solutions. I'll always wonder who took my money and what it was used for. I can only hope it did someone some good. ILLUSTRATION: Photo

Barbara Antis is a senior at Chesapeake's Hickory High School.

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