The other day, Simon and I got on the subject of high school days. All four of us, the boy, Simon, Paul and I, had attended the same program at the same high school, an International Baccalaureate school: the best college prep program in one of the worst public schools in the city. The school itself, though diverse, was very segregated: during lunch period, the black kids hung out on the first floor, the Latino kids camped out in the west complex, the special needs kids milled about the basement; us IB nerds were more or less stationed in two hallways on the second floor. Ignoring passing period, though, when about 900 kids tried to squeeze through the narrow hallway that connected the two buildings, it really felt as though we were in our own little neurotic PSAT-scores-obsessed, college boot camp.

This was by far the best education available in the area, economically and academically - prep school teaching at a public school price. But the IB environment, we both agreed, was highly toxic. The sheer amount of elitism radiating from our peers and our teachers was enough to cause spontaneous nervous breakdowns. I remember feeling dumb because I actually had to study for calculus tests; there were clear distinctions between the people who were really smart and aced tests without trying, and those who just worked hard to get a good grade. This actually came out in conversation between kids: “Oh, Suzie sure studied a lot.” “For what, that last calc test? Man, I did that in ten minutes, and spent the rest of class period inventing MENSA puzzles to challenge myself. Cause, the existing ones are so lame. Tee hee.” BARF.

The elitism shone its brightest when it came to college choices. Most of my graduating class ended up going to state schools, despite the pressure of the program teachers and administrators to get kids to go out of state. I understand why; prospective parents (moneybags) want their kids to go to Harvard and Yale, and they’ll be more interested in a program that performs. Simon said that the secretary had told him, in a snooty aside, “Last year, about 80% of the class ended up at KU. You’re a top student. Don’t let your class go to KU.” His reaction: “you answer the fucking phone, in a public school in Wichita, how the hell can you justify being an Ivy League bitch?” Sadly, he did not say this out loud.

KU, as absurd as it sounds to me now, was basically synonymous with failure. If you ended up at KU, you clearly punted all your IB and AP exams, and were on your road to burger-flipping or dealing meth by strip-mall dumpster bins. The administrators had us read through those Princeton Review books and make lists. I applied to a bunch of Ivy League schools, Johns Hopkins, and KU as my safety. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t care much at this point. My GPA sucked, and I was tired of the bullshit elitism. I wasn’t terribly eager to go to a hoity-toity place to face more bullshit elitism.

Then, everybody’s letters started to trickle in. As expected, I was flat out rejected from all of the places but two: KU, and a deferred acceptance to Cornell (meaning I was guaranteed admittance the following year). Lin, a girl, asked about my results and I told her, and she said nothing. Later, we were standing in a group of people discussing the same thing (god, is that all we talked about?), and she actually laughed and said (no joke): “ha ha, karenology got rejected by all of her schools except KU!” Taken aback, I got kind of huffy and mentioned the deferred thing, and she said, “oh, you know that doesn’t count.”

[At this point I should mention that I hold grudges for life, and I have never, ever forgiven this girl. She ended up going to U. Penn to be a full-fledged Ivy League Bitch. Despite the fact that this was years ago and she may not even still be there, every time I hear that someone is going out to Pennsylvania, I tell them about Lin, and how if they see a short, long-haired bitch who looks kind of like a duck, to punch her in the face for me. (Hannah can attest to this). Actually, it occurs to me that I will be driving through Pennsylvania. Hmm. :twisted:]

Luckily, I went to KU and have not yet resorted to selling meth behind dumpsters. I feel pretty satisfied with the education I have gotten here, because though it is a mere state school (perish the thought!), I took initiative in figuring out which professors were good and not so good, which courses would challenge me intellectually, etc. I also didn’t drop $25k on four years of schooling, like Bitch-Who-Looks-Like-A-Duck probably did. I won’t have snazzy Ivy League letterhead on my transcript, but from what I’m told, it doesn’t really matter where you went for undergraduate, anyways.

Some of the people we knew haven’t done quite as well, it’s true. We know a girl who dropped out of classes recently, and is now working at Wal-Mart sorting recycling bins. Simon thinks that she’d been dogged by the ‘humiliation’ of having to go to KU, which ruined her first few semesters. Her GPA never really recovered, and neither did her interest in school, apparently. Same thing with Paul’s ex-girlfriend, Cindy. A good amount of this can probably be blamed on the intensely unhealthy atmosphere in our high school. Yes, I am very lucky to have had such great resources in high school, and it got me off to a great start in college, but I hope it was worth the couple of years shaved off my life due to overanxiety and stress.

Don’t believe me? Think I’m just whining about my privileged education? Well, I certainly am, but check out the quote in the title. This is what is inscribed over the front entrance to the school. My school wasn’t run by Puritans, but it might as well have been.