The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth: Popularity, Quirk Theory, and Why Outsiders Thrive After High School

by Alexandra Robbins

  But were they?

  In the 1990s, UCLA scientists conducted a fascinating experiment on twelve groups of vervet monkeys. They removed the alpha males from each group and randomly selected one of the two remaining subordinate males to inject with a drug that would increase the activity of serotonin in his brain. In every case, that monkey changed his behavior and rose in social status to become the dominant male in the group. Separately, other researchers observed that in natural settings, rhesus monkeys with high levels of serotonin were more likely to participate in grooming with peers and lived closer to a larger number of other monkeys. In short, the monkeys with the most serotonin activity became popular.

  Based on the results of these studies, psychopharmacologists decided to test a similar hypothesis on humans. Teams of researchers administered to volunteers a drug to increase serotonin levels, then monitored them during a puzzle-based task with a partner. The treated individuals demonstrated an increase in “socially affiliative” behaviors, such as dominant eye contact and clear communication. more recent studies have also reported that administration of a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) “can modify social status.” In 2009, Michigan State University professor S. Alexandra Burt discovered that a region of a particular gene was associated with popularity ratings of teenage boys (in experimental settings), leading her to conclude that genetics may play a part in popularity, at least when it comes to the serotonin link.

  The directions and findings of these experiments might lead a layperson to wonder whether scientists theoretically will have the capability to develop a popularity drug. But the more important questions are: If they do, would you take it? Would you give it to your kids?

  It may be difficult to perceive all of the downsides of popularity when you are in the midst of it, but they can be pervasive, overpowering, and downright dangerous. According to a team of psychologists in Los Angeles, “popularity can incorporate notable risks for development. For example, popular youths tend to experience increases in relational and overt aggression over time.” Several researchers report that students who are popular and involved in either form of aggression are less likely to do well in school. In these studies, as elementary school and high school students became more popular, their unexplained absences from school increased and their GPAs declined. Because this aggression includes not only physical fights but also the rumors, backstabbing, and mind games that seem to be commonplace among teens, one might wonder what the difference is between populars who deal with these things and populars who don’t. The difference comes down to students’ intentions, which brings us back to the distinction between being liked and being perceived as popular.

  If a student’s social aim is to build close friendships, then she is more likely both to have a positive attitude about school and to perform well. But the perceived popular student involved in aggression, according to psychologists, probably has another social goal: one of dominance, or having power over classmates. That focus is “likely to lead to disruptive and off-task behavior and low achievement,” observed University of South Florida professor Sarah Kiefer. This connection is especially strong for girls and for white students. Interacting with one aggressive friend outside of the clique doesn’t automatically lead to poorer academic performance. But when school disengagement is part of the popular group standard, the group, directly or indirectly, will push its members to follow that road.

  This point raises another disadvantage of popularity: the pressure. The time and energy it takes to be popular—socializing in and outside of school, throwing or attending parties and other events, simply being, as explained in chapter 2, visible—not only detracts from school pursuits, but also can become a clique mandate. Bianca tried to pressure Whitney to go to a party even though she had walking pneumonia. The preps instilled a belief that people who weren’t out on a weekend night were losers.

  Popular students told me they felt intense pressure to change themselves. “I wanted to date a ‘normal’ and my friends told me, ‘To date a normal is to be a normal,’ so I let a good opportunity pass me by,” said a popular Southern student now in college. Pressured by his clique to be aggressive and manipulative, he spiked a football player’s drink with steroids, then told his coach to test him for drugs. “We crushed dreams by mocking them to death. There was a girl who was a very good poet but she had flirted with my friend’s boyfriend, so we stole her poems and read them aloud at lunch and laughed [even when] she started crying. I regret being so mean because that’s not the person I truly am,” he says now.

  For Brigitte, a popular Canadian, the pressure focused on her looks. “My weight is never good enough for any of my friends. I go to bed mad at myself for eating,” she said. “I was talking with one of my best friends and we were reminiscing about the first time she saw me. She said, ‘I remember seeing you and you were sooo pretty, I knew I had to be friends with you. Then we took you out with us, you drank a lot, the guys loved you, and we knew you were in.’ Then she said, ‘Why is it that all pretty people are friends? Like, do you think that if I was ugly you’d be friends with me?’ And I honestly responded to her, ‘Probably not.’ ”

  An Illinois football player was able to hide from the rest of the populars the fact that he wore glasses—until his gym class had to go swimming. For as long as he wore glasses, his clique shunned him. “Deep down, I know it’s wrong to be in a group that is convinced they are so exclusive and important. Deep down, I know that who you hang out with should not be decided by money, looks, skills, or background. Deep down, I wish I could change some of the relationships I’ve made with people over the years,” he said.

  Popular cliques are more likely to be characterized with negative traits than are other groups. Experts have linked popularity to “involvement in risky behaviors during adolescence, including sexual experimentation and alcohol use.” Well, sure. If popularity involves parties, and many parties include sex and alcohol, then it makes sense that the students who go to the most parties are the people who will be more likely to engage in “risky behavior.” Three of Brigitte’s best friends have been hospitalized for drug use. The populars constantly tried to pressure Whitney to smoke pot; the one time they succeeded, Whitney felt horrible about herself. When Whitney refused, they either made fun of her or alienated her.

  Students who are willing to play the game—to tolerate the aggression, to de-prioritize their school involvement, to deal with pressure to engage in risky behavior, and to chip away at their individuality—may nevertheless find their tenure at the top of the popularity chain to be short. Resentful wannabes could bring them down. Or their own clique could build them up and cast them out, as the preps did to the twins, Irene, and, finally, Whitney.

  By the end of the school year, Whitney had changed her mind about whether playing the game was worth the status. She said in May, “The biggest thing I want to make readers understand is that being popular isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. They shouldn’t strive to be a part of the clique. They should strive to do what I’m doing now and be friends with everyone and be neutral. Like, I’m so much happier now without the pressure to conform. And I can just say no now: No, Luke won’t buy you guys beer again; no, I won’t change my shirt because we’re wearing the same one, Bianca; no, I won’t smoke pot with you guys; no, I won’t cut that person up behind their back.”

  As Whitney came to realize, the primary problem with being a popular high school student, even with all of its perks—some classmates will do your bidding; you may be invited to more parties; you might find your fashions meticulously copied, your actions obsequiously praised; you can sit at a prime spot in the cafeteria; you might even be treated, as Whitney said to me after one party, “like a mini-celebrity”—is that high school ends.

  REGAN, GEORGIA | THE WEIRD GIRL

  As Regan tossed the remains of her lunch into the garbage, she could hear the history department having its last cookout. She grimaced as the teachers shouted about hot do
gs outside her office window.

  Delilah caught up to Regan on her way back to class. “I have been looking all over for you!” she shouted.

  “What’s wrong? You good?”

  “I ate lunch with history,” Delilah said, a twisted grin on her face. “And your name came up.”

  “Oh God. Lemme guess—”

  “Mandy.” Delilah relayed that Mandy had told the group Regan should be fired. Apparently, Mandy hadn’t heard that Regan was leaving Johnson of her own accord.

  That’s it, Regan steamed. I’m done with this. She typed a quick memo to Mandy’s administrator, asking to speak with him. During her planning period, Regan met the administrator in a break room. “Look,” she began, “I want to start this off by saying I’m not a tattletale. That’s just not me.”

  “I already don’t like where this is going.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed.

  “No, no, it’s okay. Go ’head.”

  Regan settled her nerves. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or not, she thought. I’m extremely conflicted karma-wise. “I’m having some issues with a history teacher,” she said.

  “I can narrow this down to . . . oh, one.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not worried about me. I don’t care. What I’m afraid of is, well, I’m leaving, and if it’s in her personality to be mean, then she’s going to find someone else to pick on. And if she’s going to do that, then I want a record to exist to prove that it’s a pattern.” Regan listed Mandy’s multiple acts of alternative aggressions.

  The administrator, seemingly unsurprised by what he called Mandy’s unprofessionalism, said he would look into the matter and talk to the principal. By the final week of school, nothing had been done about it.

  On the last day of the academic year, at the bell, one of Regan’s classes lined up by the door so that students could hug her on the way out of the classroom, risking being late to their next class. Throughout the day, kids sought her out, asking frantically, “Is it true that you’re leaving?!” and embracing her tightly.

  Regan loved the students, the material, and the teaching itself, but her experience with the Johnson teachers and administrators was enough to drive her out of the field. “I discovered during my three years as a public school teacher that teenagers need more than what they get in schools, and because of bureaucracy and financial issues, they’re not getting it,” she said.

  Regan returned to her office to finish cleaning up. She took down the student artwork that she had plastered on her walls. She removed the poster she’d made with her favorite quotes, like “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace” ( Jimi Hendrix), and “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it” (To Kill a Mockingbird). She detached the magnets she had affixed to her file cabinet; one said LOVE, another said MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

  Regan wondered how many teachers like her, beloved by students, had left teaching because of intolerant schools. She closed her eyes for a moment and wiped away the tears.

  When Regan read the teacher evaluation forms that students had filled out, she saw that her ratings were excellent. Most students gave her top marks. In answer to the question “Do you trust this teacher?”, one student responded, “I’d trust Ms. Davis with my life.” Regan would miss her students fiercely.

  “Ms. Davis is truly the best teacher I have had at Johnson since I been here, and I am truly going to miss her so much next year,” a senior wrote. Regan smiled and read the rest of the notes.

  • Ms. Davis, I love you. She’s the best lady in the whole wide world.

  • Ms. Davis is a real cool teacher. You always know the right words to say. Your teacher skills really rock. Thanks for being a really cool person, the best teacher ever, and a big inspiration.

  • Ms. Davis is the MASTER of Lit. No one could teach it better than her.

  • Ms. Davis is the sweetest, most nicest teacher in the world. I learned a lot with and from her. PS: I love this class.

  • Ms. Davis is my favorite teacher. I trust Ms. Davis. I see people tell her personal things about them, and I never see Ms. Davis running off and telling other people. I know she would keep my issues secret.

  • Alright man. You are like the freakin’ best teacher of LIFE. You accept people’s thoughts and take things into consideration. You’re very open and expressive, and I think that’s purrrty cool. I’ve had a lot of fun in your class this semester.

  • Ms. Davis is an awesome teacher. So far, she has been my favorite. She has fun activities and teaching methods, and she also interacts with her students openly. She has inspired me in many ways.

  Once again, Regan was praised for qualities that caused her contemporaries at school to exclude her. She had made a difference, she realized, to the people who mattered to her the most. And tomorrow was the beginning of another dream.

  BLUE, HAWAII | THE GAMER

  Blue was in limbo. Ms. Pierce asked the UAP committee members to reconsider, given Blue’s special circumstances. They refused. To escape his uncertainty about the future, Blue continued to throw himself wholeheartedly into preparation for the Simulated Congressional Hearings. When he was alone, he distracted himself by reading books on philosophy. He spent as much time with the smart kids as possible.

  The group quickly had become close-knit. Leilani told Blue that she thought she was her true self only around Blue and the other AP Gov kids. He felt the same way. He didn’t even mind anymore when Ty and Stewart drifted by him in school. “I feel happier in this group of friends,” he said. “I laugh a lot. I don’t feel like I have to conform to anything. When I’m with Stewart and Ty, I feel like I need to conform to their standards of ‘normal’ or whatever. When I’m with these people, I can just be whoever I feel like.”

  At nationals, Blue’s team was pleased with its performance, even though it didn’t place in the top ten, because the students had managed to disquiet the judges by arguing that Hawaii was an occupied nation. The trip to Washington, D.C., was the best time of Blue’s life.

  On the last night of the trip, Blue quietly panicked. His disappointment that the team wasn’t coming home with an award was far overshadowed by the feeling that he was coming home to nothing. He was scared that the end of SCH meant the end of everything good that had happened to him over the last couple of months. All of the awesome progress I’ve made socially and intellectually ends here, Blue thought sadly. Now we all go on with our own lives. Every other member of the team had a plan; Michael was going to a mainland college and the others all had scholarships to the University of Hawaii. Blue had no inkling of what was going to happen to him.

  Back at home, it became apparent that Blue would have to follow the most obvious avenue remaining to him. He could go to the local community college and work his tail off so that he could attempt to transfer to the University of Hawaii. First, however, he would have to graduate.

  Because Blue again was behind on homework, he was still failing English and French. With three weeks left in the school year, he appealed to those two teachers for help. He had paid attention, he told them. He moved his seat to the front of the room. “If I get an A on the final,” he asked them, “will you pass me?” They agreed. “I know you’re smarter than this,” his French teacher said.

  When Blue hunkered down to study this time, he did not hear voices screaming at him that he was an underachiever who would amount to nothing. His mother, having realized that she couldn’t force him into the military, largely left him alone. Instead, Blue heard a new chorus. “You’re an intellectual,” he remembered Michael saying. “You have a one-in-a-million kind of mind,” Leilani once told him. He got to work.

  DANIELLE, ILLINOIS | THE LONER

  By May, pieces of Danielle’s new social life slowly clicked into place. In the school library, she studied for government with Logan. In classes, she chatted with Krist
y, Bree, and Max. She went to lunch with Trish a few more times. She had become friendly with another of Camille’s friends, a boy who liked National Geographic as much as Danielle did and had the same taste in movies. One afternoon, when she happened to spot Autumn, the Dairy Queen trainee, leaving softball practice, Danielle offered to drive her home, even though she lived out of the way. On the ride, they chatted easily about work and softball. Danielle decided she didn’t care that other people called Autumn “creepy.” Autumn was nice to her, and that was enough for Danielle. To Danielle’s amazement, a supernerd even included her among the eight classmates he invited through Facebook to a study session. She was both disappointed and relieved that she couldn’t go because of a Dairy Queen shift.

  A few days later, Danielle summoned the nerve to ask the guy with whom she had discussed pop if he could burn for her the new TV on the Radio CD, which he had reviewed for the school newspaper. She expected him to think it was strange for her to ask a favor, but she wanted the CD. He agreed. The next day, Danielle passed him in the hallway and actually smiled at him. It was the first time at school that Danielle had smiled unprompted at someone whom she didn’t know well. He smiled back.

  To celebrate the end of classes, Danielle’s creative writing teacher hosted a picnic on the soccer field for his students. Danielle rolled up her jeans, kicked off her flipflops, and played soccer barefoot in the mud. She scored a goal and even called out for the ball a few times when she wasn’t teasing Kristy and Olivia, a girl she knew from eighth-grade summer camp.

  After the game, Danielle, Max, and Olivia went inside to talk to their AP U.S. History teacher, who was one of Danielle’s favorites. She chattered away, realizing that this was probably the most that Max and Olivia had ever heard her speak. Max and the teacher agreed that it had taken ages to convince Danielle to talk to them.