When I am writing a column, I often struggle with how to properly balance levity and seriousness in order to most effectively get my point across. When dealing with such subjects as racism, censorship, campaign finance reform, terrorism, and authoritarianism, it has been pretty clear that a serious analysis had to accompany the satire. This time, though, I am asked to write on the topic of high school. Pep rallies, Proms, grave admonishments about cafeteria cleanliness – I can see that this balance is going to be more slanted than a canoe with Rosie O’Donnel in it. Seriousness and high school go together about as well as Rick Santorum and tolerance. First of all, the basis of having reflective words of wisdom from Seniors, a group of neurotic, college-bent, burned out, awkward adult/children, should give us pause. These sage reflections are from the same people who spent 45 minutes holding their college letters up to the light so they could read through the envelope because they were too scared to open it. I hope I am not undermining anyone else’s reflection when I strenuously urge: DO NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING A SENIOR HAS TO SAY. Except for maybe parents and teachers, seniors should be listened to less than anyone else you know. On the list of “Those Who Should Not be Listened To,” the top five are: 5. Lemurs 4. Congress 3. Officers directing traffic 2. Mutes 1. Seniors/Senior Citizens (tie).
I can sum up my high school experience by relating one observation: Students in the cafeteria throw their backpacks in one area that is very close to a fire hose. Sometimes the bags can block the hose, creating an obstacle in case of fire. The solution to this was to place a large, cumbersome, obstacle-creating easel in front of the fire hose saying “No Bookbags.” That’s high school, poor solutions to real problems. I kid, of course – high school is a lot sillier than that.
Despite my previous warning, I am going to be so bold as to offer some advice, mostly to debunk several high school myths. Myth #1: “Whatever college you wind up going to, you will probably be happy there.” That is absurd. If you do not get into your first choice, you are going to be miserable at any other school. That is why you didn’t choose those other schools to begin with. Remember, if it’s not your first choice, it’s the worst choice. Unless your first choice was Brown and you got in, in which case you will be miserable anyway. Myth #2: “Of COURSE we’re going to still be friends after high school!” No. No you won’t. Myth #3: “Interim comments are really important.” Actually, interim comments are written by a highly sophisticated computer named Tobor. Any comment that seems personalized is just coincidence. Myth #4: “If you drive towards the Pingry clock tower at 88 mph and lightning strikes it as you drive over the Pingry seal, you will be transported through time.” Actually, this one is true. Myth #5: “Jed does not have rabies.” Jed does, in fact, have rabies. Myth #6: “High school is a microcosm of the real world.” This one actually depends on your perception of the real world. This is not a myth if you believe that the real world is an existential nightmare marked by crippling depression, abject self-hatred, and unrelenting hopelessness, not to mention humiliation, despair, self-doubt. But remember: in the real world, there are no chicken patty days. Myth #7: “I have neither given nor received any unauthorized aid on this assignment.” Ha!
I’m tempted to try and make a point somewhere in all this. But I know that I’ve spent too much time in the past trying to make a point and that a real “reflection” will rarely fit nicely and evenly into one point, no matter how grand. Once I realized early on how absurd high school was, it became fun, people became friendlier, and everything operated on a much smoother plane. One day last year, I had planned to meet alumnus David Storey in the auditorium so we could film some sketches. I walked in holding the head of a massive cow costume, an ear of corn, and a cowboy hat. As I’m walking in, a teacher is walking out and he says, “have a good weekend,” completely ignoring the odd items I am carrying. I replied, “Thanks. Hey, aren’t you even a little curious why I have all this stuff?” The teacher thought for a minute and then said, “No, not really. Come in clean-shaven and with a haircut, then I’ll ask questions.”
That is my high school experience. That is the warped, twisted world that I have spent the last four years in and that I will spend many more years missing. Pingry is a great place. Pingry, however, becomes a wonderful place when you abandon the idea that there is some ultimate goal you need to reach, when you become involved in things besides (or in place of) getting good grades, and when you begin to see your critical views of the school and your affection for it as indistinguishable.
I take back my statement that you should not listen to what seniors have to say. Only listen if you realize that no one knows what the hell they are talking about. No one will have the answers for you; no one will makes sense out of this, nor will they even know what they are trying to make sense out of. That’s why this is so great. We’re all in this together, and, yeah, we may all be bumbling ignorantly towards some place scary or disappointing or disillusioning, but we’re bumbling together, and we get through it together, and together we realize that we can make a little bit of sense out of the absurd.