Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Magnets smell.

If I ever become important enough to publish an autobiography, I'm pretty sure the most bitter/motivating/grateful/controversial chapter in it would be about my four years in the Montgomery Blair Magnet Program.

A lot of times people hear the word "Blair Magnet" and are really impressed. They associate us with things like 4.0 GPAs, computer science geniuses, Intel-winning research projects, perfect SAT scores, Robotics/Math/Physics competitions, awesome colleges, and rolly backpacks. Those ideals are what motivate parents (mostly Asian) to send their socially awkward and bucktoothed kids to this program whereupon arrival they only become all the more socially awkward and bucktoothed.

OK, so that wasn't really a fair description. I guess my point is that the Magnet only has a handful of exceptionally talented and intelligent students in each class. They serve as the figureheads of success. Everyone else is kind of dumped into a heap behind the curtain and struggles to kill each other.



The Brian Lawrences and Matt McCutchens of the program are so far beyond us lowly serfs that tossing us in the same competitive pool as them is like watching Michael Phelps race Stephen Hawking at an Olympic swimming event. I'm not saying that everybody else is stupid, but rather that the disparity between an average hard-working, sleep-deprived Magnet and a Brian Lawrence who can guest lecture in an AP Econ class is depressingly great. At a certain point, you learn to just accept the fact that you are a peon relative to these intellectual mammoths and that you will always live in their shadow.

Thus the competition between "everyone else" begins. Mastering the SATs or earning A's becomes a ruthless and desperate struggle among those who don't naturally win at life. It's academic Darwinism at the most basic level. Sink or swim. Fight or flight. Over time, everyone is judged and ranked according to their intelligence and ability level.

"Wow, you have him in your research group? Lucky bastard!"

or more commonly,

"LOOOLOL ROSE IS IN YOUR GROUP HAHAHA GOOD LUCK!!"

This competitiveness wasn't just limited to academics either...oh no. Magnets had a funny way of taking over clubs and organizations and turning those into dog-eat-dog environments as well. Orchestra, Quiz Bowls, It's Ac...all of these Magnet-dominated activities were always about status, competition, and prestige. Even the activities that weren't necessarily competitive by nature (Key Club, Silver Chips) turned into battlegrounds over who would win the important, get-me-into-college positions. A perfect example would be with the EICs of our graduating year were accepted into Harvard and Yale. "But they're not even that smart!" The teeth gnashing went on for weeks.

I know that so far this must sound like an angry tirade against the Magnet. But I think that all my complaints boil down to the fact that the program is just way too enclosed within its own rigid ideals. We were like a blind pack of socially retarded mules, wearing our special IDs, confined to our exclusive classes, moving from one computer science lab to another in smelly herds, eating and playing card games at lunch, staying after school for one extra period, getting on our own special buses with middle school Magnet kids...I could go on and on.

High school is when we're supposed to develop some of the most important skills we need for the future. Yes, a strong work ethic is important, but the ability to interact with people who don't have the exact same linear goals in life is arguably just, if not more, vital to a successful career. "But wait!" you cry. "I want to be an actuary! Or a scientist in my own lab! Or a computer programmer who lives happily in his own world! Those jobs don't require extensive social skills or interaction!" You're right, they don't. But you plan to get married one day, don't you? You want children that look up to you, right? You don't want to wear that DARE shirt for the rest of your life, correct? Well you need to know how to connect to, sympathize with, and tolerate other human beings. The Magnet did nothing to promote or emphasize social activity outside its own bubble. By the time we had the freedom to pick non-Magnet classes, our high school identities were already sealed within our peers, teachers, and "Magnet" stigma as a whole.

I think there are plenty of redeeming qualities about the Magnet that serve as enough justification for many students to go through the program anyway. Yes, most of the teachers are very good. Yes, the course selection is much more extensive than those found in other high schools. And yes, Wallops Island was an awesome field trip. But I just think that the program is way too linear and too rigid. The average Magnet graduates with higher scores and more knowledge of math and science than the average high schooler...but to me, those things just aren't worth the constant struggle to stay afloat and the subsequent social sacrifices that have to be made in order to prioritize those lofty academic goals.

Monday, July 27, 2009

I consider myself a pretty social person. I generally don't find myself intimidated by public speaking, meeting new people, or initiating conversation.

But every once in a while, I find myself in a situation where all my social instincts seem to pack up and leave for vacation without giving me any notice. I am reduced to a nodding, smiling awkward turtle with no trace of courage, opinion, or social grace. I convince myself and others that I am perfectly content no matter what level of hell I feel like I'm burning in.

Co-worker #1: Hey Rose, how's it going? Is [name of boss] keeping you busy?
Me: Oh yeahhhhhh! I'm swamped with work! It's so much but I'm really enjoying it so far! Thanks for asking! *cheesy smile*

Co-worker #2: I don't know why anyone would ever want to graduate early from college. Life's too short, you know? You just can't measure a good education in dollars! I think parents who pull their children out early are just being selfish.
Me: Uhh huh! I know exactly what you mean! People are so despicable.

Dental assistant: Oh, I'm so sorry, I just made a gash in your gums!
Me: It's no problem! I can't even feel it. Besides, I like the taste of blood!

Me: I'd like to purchase some of that facial cleanser.
Sales associate: Oh, sure, but you HAVE to follow it up with this moisturizer! Here, give me your hand!
[I oblige. She rubs the product all over my hands, leaving me feeling greasy and smelling like a coconut. I look at the price. It's $24 for a month's supply.]
SA: Don't you love it?
Me: [I hate it. But she works on commission.] Yeah!! I'll take two!

Serial killer: I just murdered your family.
Me: Oh! Well that's quite an accomplishment, isn't it?

...yep. Not only do I blatantly lie to appease others, I do it in an extremely unconvincing and awkward way. I can't even walk into certain stores anymore for fear of seeing sales associates and buying everything.

When I go home today I am going to stand in front of the mirror and practice saying "no" in the politest way possible over and over again.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Forever21, the poor man's UO.

Yesterday, I was browsing Urban Outfitter's website looking for some sunglasses when I came across something very, very familiar:




The reason I spat out my coffee? I was *wearing* this exact same ring. I'd bought it from Forever21 two days ago on a random shopping spree after work.

Despite looking back and forth between the ring on my hand and the one pictured on the website for a solid minute or two, I still wasn't completely convinced. I mean, how could my beloved UO betray me like this? Wasn't it in a different league than Forever21? It couldn't possibly stoop to the level of the enemy! I scoured Forever21.com in existential turmoil until I found what I was looking for:




At this point, I burst into tears*. My worst fears had been confirmed. I guess this is how people feel when they find out their SOs are cheating on them.

The silliest part is that UO describes the ring as exclusive to them. Wtffff. Lies lies lies! At least Forever21's prices reflect the quality of their merchandise - I like to know when I'm paying for crap, thank you very much.

The sad thing is, this sort of thing happens all the time outside of clothing retail. Cars, vodka, organic produce, and everything you see that has a drugstore imitation next to it are just a few examples of products that undergo severe price markups solely because of the way they are branded and marketed. I'm throwing an indignant mini tantrum here because of this one example of trickery that I've unearthed, but in reality I shouldn't be complaining. At the end of the day, brands and packaging promote an unattainable lifestyle that lure me in with promises of a better, cooler, hipper Rose Fan - and who wouldn't want that?! It's like a bad Will Smith alien movie. Brands have infiltrated our society. Resistance is futile. Only the monks are immune - seize them!

Will this sweatshop labor-free American Apparel shirt make me a better human who doesn't care about brand names? No, because some little Vietnamese boy probably lost a leg in the factory that made the bag I'm carrying it in (which, by the way, still has the trademark Aa logo emblazoned all over it, d'oh). Do I really think that graduating from the University of Chicago will make me a "life of the mind" scholar who devotes my being to the glories of conservative economic theory? Fuck no, I just want the school's name on my resume so I can find a job that'll let me purchase Grey Goose instead of Absolut. Because you know, that would put me in the same league as T.I. and Jamie Foxx.

The price we pay to impress those around us is so transparent. Pathetic and desperate as it may be, I'll probably still stop by Urban Outfitters after work today for some retail therapy (it's been a long week). Looking at the price tag on their jewelry might annoy me for a moment but then I'll just see something cute and convince myself I have to own it, if only to feel smug when I walk out and see girls with Forever21 shopping bags. They, in turn, will probably be thinking I'm an idiot.

The lesson here is, if Forever21 is the poor man's Urban Outfitters, then the poor man always wins.

*Dramatization