Who Murdered Uni's Spirit?

Note: My first post isn't about superheroes

The Second Continental Congress convene to decide military tactics (1775)

In the dead of winter, with foes rallying at their doorstep, the Uni High 2013-2014 Student Council gathered in a Southwest Champaign residence. In that house, belonging to the school's then secretary treasurer, (who was renowned for her inclination to lime green attire and brightening the horribly dull meeting minutes by sprinkling in cartoons and anecdotes) the 18 elected representatives milled about, participating either in anachronistic karaoke, petty conversation, or avoiding either by indulging in snacks. Among the millers was the enjoyably boisterous and ever-affable vice president, whose presence was known long before he ever entered a room and whose face & voice were stranger to none in the school, even freshfaced 8th graders like myself. He bounced from each small crowd in the living room, refusing to let a single person feel awkward.

This next moment, I always picture the man in question standing atop a literal pedestal, light streaming down as a backdrop, the image of something like a military general. But seeing as there were only couches and no heavenly lights as far as I can remember, the man in question, the legendary school president, who had strolled into the gym on the very first day with a suit-and-tied entourage, was probably just standing. The details of the president's speech are foggy but I remember talk of a certain administrator who wasn't exactly a top performer in their eyes and the purpose of the meeting was to talk school on their own terms. I remember deep passion in the way he talked, a genuine craving to change the halls he walked through, even though they wouldn't be his halls in a few months. It may have been the excitement of hanging out with cool older people, or having had one too many sugary snacks, but in that moment, I realized I wanted to change this school. To do something lasting and make a genuine difference. Because I saw these people. And these people cared. They honest-to-god cared.

All but three people in that room no longer attend Uni and the featured officers are long gone, accomplishing who-knows-what at god-knows-where. And gone with them, it seems, is the intense passion and fire that used to run our halls.

In the four years I've been here, I've noticed that former fervor being gradually replaced by cynicism, disdain, and the impatience of a people who want to get out and run and run and run and never ever look back. Almost anything the student body encounters is met with deep contempt. Two furnished hi-tech classrooms are doubted and scorned. The lack of racial and economic diversity is constantly bemoaned by one end of the spectrum while the lack of political diversity is bemoaned by the other (quietly, in a small corner). Any new policies put in place will face equal doses of resistance and sneering. No student likes their class (though funnily enough still often think it's better than the others). Students at a dance pause to think aloud to each other that this is, without a doubt, the worst dance yet (until the next). There is no joy in being here, no sense that the Uni of it all is anything special, just the grind to make it to the end of 8th period.

I realize my speculation about people's thoughts probably isn't sufficient evidence (nor should it be). So take a look at simple numbers: body count. During the audition of the most recent Uni production, my friend texted me frantically to get me (a non-thespian with barely two years of theatre experience) to try out, because of the drastically low numbers of auditionees. I've heard it said that both dramatic and musical participation have been on a gradual decline the past few years. The only club with participation worth a damn is Habitat and one of its primary appeals is getting to leave Uni for a week. Of the two elections I attended last year, one had two candidates unopposed, the other had three unopposed, and both had a one-on-one match besides. And of those who give a damn enough about the school to run and are elected, their heart for the job is underwhelming and yet they too struggle to find any of their peers who want to take part in their projects. This past Open House was surprisingly bare. No one gives a damn about sports matches (I don't) unless they or their close friends are on it. The concept of any mandatory event, even (or especially) a pep rally results in sighs and groans.

It kinda makes sense given the circumstances. In the time I've been here we've had an audit that dramatically reshaped how we conduct our daily lives, become aware of a striking lack of funds, been subject to a consequent task force report suggesting we change, well, everything, and an assortment of iconic and beloved teachers have left. In the face of that, the unseeable monitor giant punishing us time and time again, (for God's sake, they took away our pizza!) often under the pretense of our various faults and shortcomings, it's easy to understand why we might start to believe we suck.

Though I may be a little too Uni-centric in my speculation. It's entirely possible we're not alone in this lethargy phenomenon. Perusing Twitter will reveal several nihilistic memes about praying for the inevitable end to come soon. Millennials are already a desperately pessimistic bunch and most of them weren't bred on the Internet like we were, exposed to the horrors of the world that arouse cynicism in us much earlier than usual. We could very well be experiencing a nationwide phenomenon in which, instead of reacting to the horrors of the world with foolhardy revolution, the youth of America instead turn to the comfort of their beds, wrap themselves up, and wait for it all to be over.

But the idea of a deeply apathetic Uni seems more plausible if you look at the head of the pack, the current senior class. Even to say "head of the pack" feels somewhat ill-fitting. Perhaps a more appropriate metaphor would be the shy 2nd grader chosen to be a reluctant line-leader, not because he asked, but simply because it's his turn. Or the most senior sailor (not the captain or any sort of commanding officer) on a sinking pirate ship, too tired to leap off and instead waiting for the water to reach him before swimming away. Remembering my first senior class, I immediately picture them running through the halls, shrieking about the latest events, which, while likely not their actual day-to-day behavior, is fairly representative of their enthusiasm of the school. It really felt like they ran the place. On the other hand, an underclassmen today probably wouldn't think of any of us as any sort of de facto emperors, with our trademark eye-roll attitude for everything that goes on within these three floors. The students I've talked to about this post have wholeheartedly agreed to the superlative of "Least Participatory Class". Of the classes, I'd bet good money that we have the lowest numbers when it comes to anything, from clothes drives to potlucks. The only thing we take pride in in this school is how much we hate this school.

This may very well be a simple case of thin skin on my part. Four years of being constantly met with biting criticism of my Student Council ventures may have rendered me a sobbing infant, insisting that the bullies need to stop attacking the school, when in fact it's my own shortcomings.

And admittedly, I could be wrong altogether. Maybe after being here for 4 years and now being the one looking back instead of ahead makes the once vivid colors of the school run together into murky dull brown. Maybe it's always been like this and I'm just now starting to feel it.

Or maybe it doesn't matter.

Because as I'm writing this I'm in the lounge watching a group of my classmates gathered around, laughing, enjoying each other. Why ask for change? We're happy with each other, because of each other, so why am I insisting they do more?

Maybe school spirit need not be an active thing. Maybe a feeling or a sense of it is sufficient, instead of the yelling, fancy attire, and events of years past. Maybe, even, this "reformed" school spirit is in some way superior. Perhaps the fact that this spirit is more passive signals less superficiality. We don't need to yell or dress up or show up because we know we love the school and we don't need other people to know that. But I can already hear classmates objecting, "No, no, I definitely hate this school." None of it really matters that much though. I'll be out of here anytime soon.