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

by Alexandra Robbins

  “She used to just sit in the back of the room and look like this,” the teacher said, crossing his arms and adopting an angry glare.

  “I did not!” Danielle protested.

  Max nodded emphatically. “It took three months to get Dani to talk to me,” he said. “I just kept on talking to her nonstop and eventually she started to talk to me a little.”

  Why’d he do that? Danielle wondered. Most people don’t bother.

  Danielle gave Max a ride home from the picnic. Still new to driving, she told herself, Watch for the curb. Do not forget to watch for the curb. When she started the engine, Max said, “Okay, Dani, we’re going to play a game. You’re going to drive around town until you find my house.”

  “What?!”

  Max laughed. “I’ll tell you if you’re hot or cold.”

  Danielle saw Olivia riding her bicycle down Stone Mill’s semicircular driveway. She pulled alongside her.

  “Olivia!” she shouted. “Where does Max live?”

  “Kjshfjklsdfhjk!” Max yelled gibberish so that Danielle couldn’t hear.

  “I pass his house on the way home!” Olivia shouted over Max.

  “I know! Where does he live, though?”

  “Um, you go right, and then . . .”

  “Do you know the street?” Danielle pressed.

  “DANI!” Max shouted as Danielle, too busy talking to Olivia to pay attention to the curving driveway, drove over the curb and onto the grass in front of the school.

  Max couldn’t stop laughing while Danielle, kicking herself, got back onto the road. “You are a horrible driver!”

  “Well, I did drive through a garage door.” Danielle hadn’t admitted that to anyone at school.

  When she pulled into his driveway, Max lingered. He goofed around, pressing buttons in the car, turning on the windshield wipers. He was still laughing about how she’d driven onto the curb.

  “Get out,” Danielle said, mock-angry.

  “Okay!” Max chortled. “Bye, Dani! We’re going to play tennis soon!”

  Danielle didn’t realize until she had been home for an hour that Max had turned on her hazard lights, which hadn’t stopped flashing since.

  WHITNEY, NEW YORK | THE POPULAR BITCH

  Whitney was in the senior lounge when the class advisor asked if any students wanted to organize the senior slideshow. The show would feature childhood pictures of the seniors and would run during Senior Night, the pre-graduation ceremony during which senior awards and scholarships were announced. Bobby and Chip volunteered. Aware that if the preps were in charge of the slideshow, they would spotlight only themselves, Whitney also volunteered. The teacher gave a quick speech about how they needed to include everyone.

  The next day, Whitney met Bobby and Chip in the computer graphics room, which the boys said they had never entered because “only punks and emos do stupid things like graphic design.” Bianca and Giselle watched from across the room. Bianca made fun of pictures of students who were overweight as children. She said little to Whitney.

  As they shuffled through the photos, Whitney began scanning pictures of students from various groups. When she inserted a photo of a “loser,” Chip said, “No, absolutely not.”

  “Eww, Whitney, don’t include that!” Bianca said. Whitney inserted the photo anyway.

  “Whitney, are you kidding?” Chip said. Bobby laughed.

  “You guys are so annoying,” Whitney muttered. She made sure the slideshow was accessible only under her username so that the preps couldn’t change the photos later.

  Whitney flipped to a picture of a group of punks. She dragged and dropped it into the show.

  “You’re ruining the slideshow!” said Chip, the senior class president. “It’s just disgusting!” Bobby doubled over.

  As Whitney continued to represent all of her grade’s groups, Chip made snarky comments about most of the non-preps, while Bobby played along. “What a dome!” they crowed about a band kid with a large head.

  “You guys weren’t the best-looking kids, either,” Whitney said.

  Chip insisted that every photo of him had to go in the slideshow.

  “Whatever,” Whitney said, knowing she would sneak a few out. She made sure that, no matter how much the boys complained, every senior who submitted a picture was included in the show.

  Two weeks later, Whitney pulled into the school parking lot for Senior Night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had parked discourteously as she had done in the fall. When she and Fern stepped out of the car, Whitney saw Bianca, Giselle, and Madison a few spots away; dressed similarly in overdone formalwear, they obviously had gotten ready at Bianca’s house. Whitney remembered when the four of them had sauntered together through the same parking lot before Homecoming, sashaying toward the building like stars at a movie premiere. I used to be on the other side of Bianca right there, Whitney thought. When Giselle saw Whitney and Fern, she waited for them, while Bianca and Madison floated by without acknowledgment.

  Inside, Whitney immediately went backstage to set up the slideshow, knowing that Bobby and Chip wouldn’t help even if she asked. By the time she finished, most of the seats in the auditorium were taken, and the preps hadn’t saved one for her. Whitney sat in the front row next to some of the unpopular guys she had gotten to know during the last few weeks of school.

  During the final speech of the night, Whitney slipped backstage. When the class advisor flashed her a thumbs-up, Whitney pressed PLAY and stood on the catwalk to watch the audience’s reactions. As the first notes of Vitamin C’s “Graduation Song” filled the auditorium, Whitney skimmed her classmates’ faces, tilted upward and bathed in the soft glow from the screen. She watched them laughing at the pictures of themselves, or exchanging tender looks with their parents. There was a girl whose graduation party Whitney had convinced Giselle to accompany her to, even though the preps made fun of them for going. There were the band kids she’d gotten to know so well over the last couple of months. There was Fern, smiling. Fern had written in Whitney’s yearbook, “You definitely made my senior year a lot easier. Thanks for making me feel comfortable even when I thought I never would be.” When Whitney had shown her mother, she told Whitney that she was proud of her. “You made such a difference in someone’s life!” added her mother’s secretary, peering over her shoulder.

  Whitney hadn’t considered it that way. But she was even more surprised to realize that Fern, who would patiently listen to Whitney complain—usually about Bianca—had become a real friend.

  There were the emos, with whom Whitney had started eating lunch in the hallway on occasion. The badasses looked like any other students; Whitney had learned while hanging out with them during seventh period that they weren’t the thugs that classmates assumed them to be. Even the preps, knotted together in the middle of the room, grinned as they gazed at the screen. Bianca, too cool to submit pictures of herself, had told Whitney to copy some from her Facebook page. Knowing this would be the last thing she ever did for Bianca, Whitney selected elementary school photos of Bianca with non-preps, back before the class had shuffled into a hierarchy of cliques.

  Whitney imagined that all of the seniors finally felt included. She was proud that she had created this moment for her classmates. She grew nostalgic too, as the occasional photo of her popped up on the screen: Whitney in elementary school, Whitney as the sixth grade queen bee, Whitney in high school. . . . As she watched, she mused that she had occupied various roles with these classmates. “I was a hated loser when I got kicked out of the popular group, I was the queen of the school, I was a loyal follower, and, most recently, I was independent,” she said. “In each of those positions I, like, learned something new and something I’ll use later in life. Being in each position led to something better.”

  Whitney wasn’t naïve enough to think that she had smoothed over relationships with all of the students she had burned in the past. She was certain that the FFAs continued to think of her as, in her words, the Antichri
st. And Bianca hated her. But now Whitney knew the difference between being a popular and being popular.

  As a prep, she realized, she had been a member of a clique that was considered “the populars” even though they comprised the group that had the fewest friends. Now, without any group affiliation, Whitney walked down the halls feeling free to sit with or talk to practically anyone in her grade. She had never been happier.

  Chapter 13

  THE RISE OF THE CAFETERIA FRINGE

  It would be misleading to assert that group identities and exclusions disappear immediately when students go to college. Certainly, many outsiders love college right away. other college students told me that, at first, they sensed divisions that didn’t seem all that different from high school: drinkers vs. non-drinkers, Greeks vs. independents, partiers vs. studiers. Some students encounter new labels; a college freshman in Iowa learned the term “narnian,” used to refer to students who don’t often leave their dorm rooms. Students who look forward to a sea change in atmosphere the second they arrive on campus may be disappointed at first. But it gets better. Give it time.

  Granted, it is a lot to ask a teen to wait. Geoffrey, a “smart kid” eighth grader in Indiana, said, “I’m always single, so it’s tough. Never can get a girl. The smart thing repels girls. I like being smart because I breeze through school and can get a good job and make good money. That’s the good thing, but the girl thing is killing me.” One of Geoffrey’s thirteen-year-old classmates, who was labeled a “ditz,” told me, “I’m near the bottom of the food chain and I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” No! You don’t! Adolescence is a formative time, but it should not, as Eli worried to me once, comprise the best years of your existence.

  Eventually, it passes, and, whether in college or as young adults, many individuals will come to experience quirk theory. Blue began to understand a glimmer of quirk theory when the first-round UAP interviewer told him that he was different from anyone else she had interviewed—and she passed him to the final round of admissions because of that. He experienced a hint of this phenomenon again when his new friends, especially Michael, admired him for some of the same reasons for which his old friends had mocked him.

  The main characters and several of the other students discussed in this book exemplify quirk theory. To begin with, many of them already exhibit the attributes described in chapter 5 as some of the most appreciated qualities among adults. Each of them also displays additional traits that others will respect outside of school.

  • Blue, creative and curious, is a freethinker with the ability to see around corners. His discipline may have been shaky, but his integrity is solid, both in his character and in his refusal to gossip. His longing to connect, diverse talents, and yearning to share them, and openness to multiple perspectives—all of which his old friends made fun of—have already begun to serve him well.

  • Danielle’s vow to be her own person following a shattering social blow keeps her grounded and committed to the matters she prioritizes, such as learning about global, environmental, and social justice issues. Her wealth of interests, rich literary exposure, and fearlessness to engage in activities she enjoys, even if she must participate alone, will make her a standout whether she pursues medicine, archaeology, or any of the other fields that currently captivate her.

  • Noah’s self-awareness and receptiveness to his emotions make him the kind of forthright, empathetic individual whom others will appreciate. He continued to grow his hair long to donate it to charity even though it made him a target for teasing. Noah’s sense of devotion and willingness to shoulder more than his share of responsibility—of the band, of his brother—are qualities that are highly valued outside of the school setting. And how many other students would keep running for class office because, even if they lose, year after year, the experience will help them grow?

  • Joy’s ability to find the positive in even the most harrowing of experiences demonstrates resilience far more pronounced than that of many people twice her age. Her maturity, eloquence, and undaunted willingness to express herself—which led some students to exclude and harass her—along with her eagerness to help others are good signs that we will be hearing her name in years to come.

  • Eli likely will find that people will respect his curiosity and his dedication to lifelong learning much more in college than his high school classmates did. His earnestness, vast knowledge, and determination to stay the course, even in the face of multifaceted pressure to be “normal,” are qualities that many adults will find impressive.

  • Outside of school, Regan has already found admirers of her policy to be candid and open, even when her honesty gets her in trouble. Both personally and in her new career path, adults will continue to treasure her authenticity, outspokenness, and compassion, as well as her warm acceptance of other people’s unique qualities.

  • Even the traits for which the preps excluded Whitney—her ability to wear multiple hats, her refusal to continue being cruel, her alternative sense of style, the charisma that enabled her to befriend students from other groups—will benefit her in college and beyond.

  All of these people also demonstrated inspiring qualities that are generally representative of cafeteria fringe across the country. For example, the outsiders did not waste time repainting their images to increase their popularity. In the end, they stayed true to themselves, asserting their uniqueness in the environment that makes it most challenging to do so. Remaining nonconformist in the face of intense social pressure, if not outright harassment, takes dedication, drive, and as previously discussed, courage.

  It is not the labels themselves that make these individuals unique and admirable. Blue is not extraordinary because he is a gamer. He is extraordinary because he is Blue. But so many of the students whose labels signify their lack of perceived popularity—emos, indies, freaks, nerds, scenes, loners, floaters, skaters, punks, all manner of geeks and dorks—someday are going to derive practical and/or social advantages from attributes that qualified them for those labels in the first place. Geeks profit from their technological know-how. Emos might be in touch with their feelings and others’, and unafraid to show and empathize with those emotions. Scenes and indies often influence the cutting edge of cultural movements. Gamers, adept at problem solving, engage in ventures of successful “collective intelligence,” researchers say, because of their collaborative efforts, on forums, blogs, and wikis, to understand the games. As game designer and award-winning innovator Jane McGonigal has argued, these “collective knowledge–building” efforts could be applied to real-world issues.

  Freaks are often creative and perhaps the boldest of the cafeteria fringe because they display their distinctions openly with pride. Skaters and punks are frequently underestimated; their sense of artistry suggests the inventiveness they could bring to other endeavors. Dorks might exhibit a childlike goofiness that endears them to adults who are young at heart, and the often-appreciated quality of not taking themselves too seriously.5 Loners may be the most self-aware people in school, with the introspectiveness that allows them to work through identity issues long before their peers. And floaters are already skilled at adult-style social networking, able to converse and connect with different people, and instrumental in transmitting information, culture, and ideas across various groups. Indeed, the number of floaters in a school setting increases with age.

  A closer look at any cafeteria fringe label reveals quirk theory at work. Consider the nerds, perhaps the most widely persecuted outcasts in school. What makes them nerds? Here is a series of descriptions from David Anderegg’s book Nerds. They exhibit “some combination of school success, interest in precision, unself-consciousness, closeness to adults, and interest in fantasy. . . . The weird enthusiasms, the willingness to cooperate with adults, the lack of social skills—all these things seem nerdy and pathetic to sophisticated, self-conscious teenagers. . . . Nerd-labeled kids are, in fact, curiously immune from the rampant sexualization and,
more generally, adultization of preteen culture. Here we might notice one of the very best things about nerds, or at least nerd-labeled kids: they act like children.”

  Unself-consciousness. Closeness to adults. Interest in imaginative worlds. Enthusiasm. Cooperativeness. Immunity from fads. None of these is a negative characteristic for adults, yet combined they form a recipe for exclusion among teens. Eventually, people come to appreciate nerdiness. With the success and popularity—actual popularity—of standout nerdy characters like those portrayed by Stephen Colbert, Tina Fey, Seth Green, Michael Cera, and Masi Oka, today’s generation of adults has entered the Age of the Nerd. Movies celebrating the beta male (think Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Ben Stiller)—clean up at the box office. In many areas, nerds are appreciated and even beloved precisely because of the qualities that set them apart from the mainstream.

  Both the nerd and geek subcultures have undergone a renaissance in recent years. In 2010, “nerd fashion”—large, thick-framed glasses, tapered pants, and argyle vests—gained favor. Even Hello Kitty sported black-rimmed glasses on Sanrio’s “nerd tote bag” and other items. The rise of geek chic and nerd merch, the proliferation of nerdcore hip-hop artists, and celebrity endorsements of and appearances at the “nerd prom” known as Comic Con all contribute to what Jerry Holkins, the creator of the Penny Arcade webcomic and video game conference, called “the social pariah outcast aesthetic.” The massive mainstreaming of spheres that once were the domains of nerds and geeks—video games, Internet destinations like Wikipedia, YouTube, MySpace, Facebook, Skype; technological gear like Bluetooth headsets and BlackBerries; the literary genres that encompass Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Twilight; pop culture remixes like Transformers and X-Men; activities like forwarding or embedding viral videos and blogging—provide ample evidence that a once-stigmatized subculture is now embraced and thriving.