Courtesy Bo Quintana; Milton Teen
Let’s talk about that dreaded topic that has been overlooked
by the most unbiased reporters, the best presidents and even the worst
dictators.
High school.
High school is either the dark ages of your existence or the
best four years of your life. There is no middle. It is black or white.
Despite the fact that in the long run nobody cares about
those four years, they remain astoundingly and terrifyingly important to teenagers,
including myself.
And within the first three weeks of my high-school
imprisonment, I have been marked.
Band kid.
Geeky, sci-fi T-shirt kid.
Nerdy, movie kid.
And honestly, I’m okay with these categorizations.
I have seen strange and terrible things, dear readers.
Strange and terrible things.
I have seen people paint their entire torsos bright red just
for a sporting event.
I have seen people talk about the similarities between
Colombians and Greeks -- for an entire ten minutes. Ten whole minutes!
I have been asked by a complete stranger if I own a turtle.
On the same day, “someone” turned my friend’s backpack inside out in a strange
ritual known to the natives as “turtle-ing.” He, unlike me, owns a turtle.
But that’s not what I would like to talk about here. I would
like to discuss the class system.
In our very own local high school, people are dividing each
other not by age, but by personality.
You might tell me that I should have expected this. That
this is the natural order of this environment. That it is me who needs to
change, to fit in.
But I can’t believe this. I know that it is true, but I just
can’t believe it. Nonetheless, here are the groups.
The Undesirables:
The group of kids that singlehandedly keep the Five Hour Energy company afloat.
Their domain is the gas station, where you will often see them with skateboards,
using the word “bruhhhhh”.
The Lovelies: Pretty
much the Kardashians of high school, in the sense that they are there and they
are loved, despite the fact that they don’t seem to do anything or to have ever
done anything of importance or interest. They dominate the lunchroom (although
they would never eat there because, you know, the food is just so grody) and
the mall, where those shoes are just so nice, but also just so expensive.
The Wanderers: Those
who don’t really do anything. They’re not a clique, per se. They’re individuals
that are just there. You try to make
friends with them, and at first it seems like they are just misunderstood little
creatures, but when you try to introduce them to a new hobby, or a hobby at
all, they instantaneously move to Connecticut.
The Jocks: They
Tarzan. Look for Jane. Hockey good. Pizza
also good.
The Goths: Ugh.
Theatre Kids: They
seem pretty cool, but then you go to the Black Box or the stage and see
pictures of people on the ceilings. You try to convince yourself that that’s
normal, that this is a normal activity. But you find more. And you begin to
wonder, how do they get up there? Do these people seriously bring in ladders
only to tape a picture of a woman onto the ceiling? Is this really what they do?
Band Kids: Although
it’s tough for me to find faults with my own group, we are strange, strange
people. No other group, for example, voluntarily locks themselves in a tuba
case for bragging rights.
Orchestra Kids:
Probably the most sophisticated of the Fine Arts kids, Orch Dorks know their
stuff. Give them something that isn’t a string instrument, however, and
everything and everybody is doomed. When handed a French horn, a member of the
Orchestra will mumble something about a lesson they’re late for, dive out of a
window, and rock gently in the fetal position in the corner of the school.
Math Nerds/Geeks:
They’re good at math, bad at everything else. They will get both far and
nowhere in the real world. They will slowly transform into cat ladies, no
matter their gender.
Other Nerds/Geeks:
They’re pretty bad at math, science, literature, and basically everything
except for useless trivia. However, they will eventually become David
Letterman. Every single one of them. Clones. The cycle is complete.
Kind, well-adjusted
kids with a clue: Nah, just kidding, these don’t exist.
What I think I’m trying to say, dear readers, is that as high
schoolers, we all share one thing: We are all, in some way or form, immensely
dumb for latching onto a single group. So teach your kids about their common
ignorance, and tell them, “Hey kid, cliques are bad. Be stupid together. Make
friends with everyone. Also, get good grades because that’s like kind of the
reason that you’re doing that whole thing in the first place. So focus on
that.”
Stay connected and stuff.
-Bo
