A Girl Was My Arch Nemesis. Another Was My Vision of Greatness. And "They" Say Girls Are Overlooked?
Look No Further, She’s There
There’s nothing worse than knowing the answer, having your hand flailing in the air, and not being picked by your teacher to respond. That had to be my biggest pet peeve in school. As an adult, I can sort of understand teachers’ motives: let’s find someone who doesn’t normally participate and encourage them. Well, no. How about picking the person who knows the answer and stop making that person feel as if he is less than. At least that’s how I felt. So, I don’t understand the statistic that says boys get more attention in class than girls. By whom? Boys? The teacher? Other girls?
Looking back on my classroom settings – and my memory is just that good – I do not recall boys being favored over girls. Could it be because I was a boy? Maybe. I took all honors classes in middle and high school where many of the students were actually girls. And they were really smart. Many of them were also leaders of social organizations around campus. From personal experience, I can say that I don’t think boys are favored over girls in class.
Just writing this has sparked a horrible memory of high school. Since my freshman year, I wanted to become managing editor of our school paper. I started off as a staff writer, became activities editor, then feature editor. The last day of class, junior year, I walked my journalism teacher to her car. On the way, I told her I felt I was ready to become managing editor (the highest editor position) of the paper when my senior year began. She told me she thought I’d make a great editor and that I had been doing a wonderful job all these years. I couldn’t wait for the summer to end. I was going to be managing editor in the fall, I just knew it. From personal experience, I can say that I don’t think boys are favored over girls in class.
Well, there was this girl in my class: Ashley. She worked on both the writing side and graphic side of the paper, whereas I could only focus on the writing side (since I chose chorus as another elective). Senior year arrived. In my crisp, new school clothes, I entered journalism class. I walked to the sheet taped to the chalk board with all the editor listings; my name was under “managing editor.” I was pumped. Finally, my dream had come true. The leader. I looked at the paper again. Above my name was “editor-in-chief,” a new position. Below it was Ashley’s. This is how she became my arch nemesis.
Too Good To Be True
Rebecca on page 128 of “RED” talks about her friend’s ability to “throw aside all inhibitions and just walk up to someone, whoever they were, and start a conversation.” I was that person. I look back at pictures of me in high school: my large body, sky-scraper height, inflamed skin, welfare glasses, and Wal-Mart clothes. I look back at those pictures and am amazed at how confident, witty, charming, and popular I was. How could someone who looked liked I did act like I did? I think it’s safe to say that everyone in school wants to be that person.
There was this one girl, Danielle. She was one grade below me; an amazing girl. Not only did she participate in every seasonal sport, but she was in chorus, National Honor Society, a Keyette (sorority-type club), and too many others to list. In addition, she would bring cookie cakes with her almost daily to celebrate someone’s birthday. “Happy Birthday” was piped in blue or yellow or pink frosting on the massive cookie. I envied her. I wanted a cookie. But, I was not in her circle of friends nor did I feel like I lived up to the expectations of someone like that. Maybe she had a twin, I thought. Seriously, how could one person do all that she did? I’m still amazed at her. Oh, and she excelled in her academics as well becoming one of the “Students of the Year” her senior year.
Bonehead ….
Sarah’s “Tampoon” story made me laugh as well. I didn’t quite understand what happened in the auditorium, but I did relate to her “tampoon” usage. Just the idea of not knowing something other people do. For example, in 6th grade (elementary school) I was in line waiting on the teacher to allow us back into the classroom. Chris was in front of me talking about “boners.” I had no idea what a “boner” was. But I pretended to know. “Growing Pains” was a popular show at the time. “Boner” was a character’s name; so, I assumed they were talking about him. Nope. Penis’. Erections. Not a character. Needless to say, now I know what a boner is.
Prom Prom
Prom is one of the many times in life when being a guy is great. Going to the tux place, picking out a color and leaving with a tuxedo is just as simple as “whipping it out” and going to the bathroom. The complexities of being a girl at prom are equal to that of a girl needing to go potty in the woods.
Ultimately, the prom is a mini-wedding. It’s an entity that perpetuates what a female should be. Just like playing with dolls is to single digit girls, prom is a way to prepare teenage girls for their ultimate place in life: a wife, stereotypically speaking. Harris explains how “finding the dress” was the most important part of the prom (197). I’m not a woman, nor can I get married, but based on those damn television shows, it would seem that finding the right dress is right up there with priority number one.
Anyway, this blog post is way too long. I’ll save your eyes for another post next week.
There’s nothing worse than knowing the answer, having your hand flailing in the air, and not being picked by your teacher to respond. That had to be my biggest pet peeve in school. As an adult, I can sort of understand teachers’ motives: let’s find someone who doesn’t normally participate and encourage them. Well, no. How about picking the person who knows the answer and stop making that person feel as if he is less than. At least that’s how I felt. So, I don’t understand the statistic that says boys get more attention in class than girls. By whom? Boys? The teacher? Other girls?
Looking back on my classroom settings – and my memory is just that good – I do not recall boys being favored over girls. Could it be because I was a boy? Maybe. I took all honors classes in middle and high school where many of the students were actually girls. And they were really smart. Many of them were also leaders of social organizations around campus. From personal experience, I can say that I don’t think boys are favored over girls in class.
Just writing this has sparked a horrible memory of high school. Since my freshman year, I wanted to become managing editor of our school paper. I started off as a staff writer, became activities editor, then feature editor. The last day of class, junior year, I walked my journalism teacher to her car. On the way, I told her I felt I was ready to become managing editor (the highest editor position) of the paper when my senior year began. She told me she thought I’d make a great editor and that I had been doing a wonderful job all these years. I couldn’t wait for the summer to end. I was going to be managing editor in the fall, I just knew it. From personal experience, I can say that I don’t think boys are favored over girls in class.
Well, there was this girl in my class: Ashley. She worked on both the writing side and graphic side of the paper, whereas I could only focus on the writing side (since I chose chorus as another elective). Senior year arrived. In my crisp, new school clothes, I entered journalism class. I walked to the sheet taped to the chalk board with all the editor listings; my name was under “managing editor.” I was pumped. Finally, my dream had come true. The leader. I looked at the paper again. Above my name was “editor-in-chief,” a new position. Below it was Ashley’s. This is how she became my arch nemesis.
Too Good To Be True
Rebecca on page 128 of “RED” talks about her friend’s ability to “throw aside all inhibitions and just walk up to someone, whoever they were, and start a conversation.” I was that person. I look back at pictures of me in high school: my large body, sky-scraper height, inflamed skin, welfare glasses, and Wal-Mart clothes. I look back at those pictures and am amazed at how confident, witty, charming, and popular I was. How could someone who looked liked I did act like I did? I think it’s safe to say that everyone in school wants to be that person.
There was this one girl, Danielle. She was one grade below me; an amazing girl. Not only did she participate in every seasonal sport, but she was in chorus, National Honor Society, a Keyette (sorority-type club), and too many others to list. In addition, she would bring cookie cakes with her almost daily to celebrate someone’s birthday. “Happy Birthday” was piped in blue or yellow or pink frosting on the massive cookie. I envied her. I wanted a cookie. But, I was not in her circle of friends nor did I feel like I lived up to the expectations of someone like that. Maybe she had a twin, I thought. Seriously, how could one person do all that she did? I’m still amazed at her. Oh, and she excelled in her academics as well becoming one of the “Students of the Year” her senior year.
Bonehead ….
Sarah’s “Tampoon” story made me laugh as well. I didn’t quite understand what happened in the auditorium, but I did relate to her “tampoon” usage. Just the idea of not knowing something other people do. For example, in 6th grade (elementary school) I was in line waiting on the teacher to allow us back into the classroom. Chris was in front of me talking about “boners.” I had no idea what a “boner” was. But I pretended to know. “Growing Pains” was a popular show at the time. “Boner” was a character’s name; so, I assumed they were talking about him. Nope. Penis’. Erections. Not a character. Needless to say, now I know what a boner is.
Prom Prom
Prom is one of the many times in life when being a guy is great. Going to the tux place, picking out a color and leaving with a tuxedo is just as simple as “whipping it out” and going to the bathroom. The complexities of being a girl at prom are equal to that of a girl needing to go potty in the woods.
Ultimately, the prom is a mini-wedding. It’s an entity that perpetuates what a female should be. Just like playing with dolls is to single digit girls, prom is a way to prepare teenage girls for their ultimate place in life: a wife, stereotypically speaking. Harris explains how “finding the dress” was the most important part of the prom (197). I’m not a woman, nor can I get married, but based on those damn television shows, it would seem that finding the right dress is right up there with priority number one.
Anyway, this blog post is way too long. I’ll save your eyes for another post next week.
Comments
On a totally different subject, I liked how you talked about prom like going to the bathroom in the woods. I spent weeks getting ready for prom (why, I have no idea. I really didn't care all that much). Getting ready for prom convinced me that I'd much rather not have a big fancy wedding. It'd be a major pain in the ass. Not to mention a waste of money (in my opinion)