The school we attended wasn't the original Tokay high school though as the it was torched by some idiots:
So on that March 15, 1974, Friday morning, as we sat in our third period Government class, waiting for the bell to ring and Mr. Berkowitz to wish us a relaxing weekend, they flicked Bic lighters and taunted each other. “Let’s burn the school down,” one said to the other as I rolled my eyes in disgust and looked up at the clock. After all, those two underachievers had been my classmates since fourth grade and among all the people I would miss after graduating, they were not included.
I had no way of knowing, of course, that in a little less than 48 hours, they would make good on their threat.
That 1974 St. Patrick’s Day was a quiet Sunday morning. Until my father came into the house looking for me, that is. “Kirk just stopped by. He said the school burned down.” I didn’t even respond. Grabbing whatever clothing I could find, I jumped on my 10-speed and pedaled the three blocks, fearing the worst, but ready, as a member of the Tokay Press staff, to cover whatever story awaited me.
I stumbled into the courtyard and joined a crowd of Lodians already assembled there, staring in disbelief at the Main Building from behind the yellow tape near the entrance to the Boys’ Gym. They were numb, some crying and pointing, whispering among themselves as they watched members of the Lodi Fire Department cleaning up.