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

by Alexandra Robbins

  So, too, can teenage nerds and geeks find this acceptance. While there have been surprisingly few trickle-down effects from the adult Age of the Nerd to the student world, they have been positive. Some student bodies have acknowledged a “cool nerd” subset, for example. More important, many teenage nerds and geeks now choose to celebrate their label rather than allow it to imprison them. These outcasts are rising up, exulting in the “geek cred” that differentiates them from other groups and the knowledge and precision that, as Geoffrey suggested, eventually will enable them to profit financially (as have, to name a few, Paul Allen, Sergey Brin, Larry Ellison, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Larry Page, and Steve Wozniak, some of whom themselves exemplify quirk theory). They are realizing at an early age that the geeks (and loners, punks, floaters, dorks, and various other outcasts) shall inherit the earth.

  Some students are fighting their marginalization by co-opting typically derogatory terms. In 2009, four twelve-to-fourteen-year-olds won the New York City FIRST LEGO League Robotics Championship under the team name Nerd Herd. The St. Edmund School students, finalists at the Robotic World Festival, told the Gothamist how they came up with the name: “I was looking across the lunchroom and I saw the rest of the team doing some nerdy things,” said Simon Shkreli. “Now I have to make a good name. Geek Squad (NO!). Nerd Dudes (almost). Nerd . . . HERD! (YES!)”

  Caitlin and her friends, seniors at a small all-girls school in North Carolina, call their group “drama dorks.” Caitlin listed the following as her “dork” qualities: “I’m in my second year of AP Calculus. I’m taking AP Statistics as an elective. I work as a techie for drama, can recite Star Wars movies, watch anime religiously, can write Java computer code and HTML, and write fan fiction and original novels in my free time. I have a T-shirt for AP Calc that I wear in public and another one for the Math Club, even though I’m not in the Math Club. Not that I go around making the Spock ‘Live long and prosper’ hand signal, but basically, once you’ve met me you stop applying the word dork to anyone else.” Because Caitlin is confident in her identity and wears her label as a badge of honor rather than someone else’s stamp of disapproval, she has escaped cruelty from her peers. That and, she said, “No one is going to make fun of me if they want me to tutor them in chemistry.”

  Just because outcasts are excluded from certain groups or in particular environments doesn’t mean that everybody will avoid them. In psychological parlance, groups expel “deviants” because they threaten group identity. But because different groups have different characteristics, a deviant in one group may be a nondeviant in another. This is why many students flourish in college, where the environment is typically more accepting of diverse qualities than in high school, and includes students who aren’t already saddled with reputational bias. A college freshman in Alabama was alternately mocked and ignored in high school. “High school was so unimaginably stifling for me. I never went on a date,” she said. “Since I’ve been in college, away from everyone who knew me previously, I’ve thrived. I’ve been able to reach my full potential, even winning a student government position. I feel like I’m finally free to pursue what I want, for me.”

  Laura, the redhead mentioned in chapter 8 who was tormented by students who shot staples into her ears and stuck KICK ME HARD signs on her back, eventually found similar solace in college, where she joined several clubs. “The best thing to do is find a group of people who share similar interests and stay true to oneself. That’s how I’ve survived. I’m my own person and not defined by a large group of people,” she said. Incidentally, Laura’s red hair has become more of an attraction than a deterrent. “There aren’t a lot of redheads, so I think people remember me. It really does pay to be different in some way.”

  Those differences will be appreciated someday. A teacher in Oklahoma reflected on the post-graduation aftermath of student social divisions. “The in crowd always hangs together, even after graduation. They are the ones who will become debutantes after their freshman year in college. The others tend to drift away. They don’t get invited to the parties, they are laughed at because they aren’t wearing designer clothes, etc.,” she said. But when it comes down to the popular students versus the outcasts, the latter “are more sure of themselves (even with the ridicule), and usually turn out to be more successful and well-adjusted. I would take the outcasts in a heartbeat.” So would I.

  NOAH, PENNSYLVANIA | THE BAND GEEK

  Near the end of sixth period, a secretary called Noah to the principal’s office. As he walked down the hall, Noah fretted over the possible reasons for being summoned. Are they going to give me detention for playing Pokémon in school? he wondered. Are Leigh and I getting a citation for kissing in public?

  Noah’s recycling efforts were more successful than he had realized. In less than two months, he had recruited about twenty regular volunteers, and had extended conversations—especially in the cafeteria—about recycling with more than one hundred other students, including jocks, populars, wannabes, quiet kids, weird kids, bandies, and a bearded student in ratty clothes whom Noah’s friends thought was a hobo.

  In study hall, Noah had noticed a prostitot cleaning out her binder. He was intimidated by prostitots—and this one was heavily pregnant and seemed angry. He took a breath, then stood up. “Waitwaitwait!” he shouted.

  She paused, holding a pile of papers over the trash can. “What am I waiting for, your stupid comments?”

  “No,” Noah said, still nervous. “I was just going to ask if you’d put your papers into the recycling bin.”

  “What does it matter? It all gets thrown away anyways. Not like I care about some trees.”

  Noah walked over to her. “Here, I’ll do it, then. I don’t mind.”

  She dropped the papers into Noah’s hands and returned to her seat. He placed them in the recycling bin. “Do you guys really think you’re making some kind of difference?” she asked.

  “Of course! We’ve recycled over two dumpsters. Like five tons!”

  “Really? That’s a lot, right?”

  “Yeah, and we’ve been getting help from a lot of other kids to make it so good. From the kids who just recycle their paper instead of throwing it in the trash to kids who’ll stay after school and recycle with us, every little bit counts.”

  “Oh. That’s cool. I’d help, but . . .” She trailed off and glanced down at her stomach.

  “We’re happy to have anyone we can helping, and if you ever want some volunteer hours or a shot at a scholarship, let me know. We do work every week.”

  Each time Noah successfully broke through to someone about recycling, his self-esteem soared. I might not get recognition, but maybe people really do see me as a leader, he thought. I’m not an aggressive, charismatic leader; I’m just trying to be nice and connect with people so that they feel welcome. As Noah gained confidence, other areas of his life improved as well. His grades had risen, he had scored a few goals on Redsen’s playoff-bound Frisbee team, and he was happy and relatively calm. Noah hadn’t crashed in more than a month.

  The office door opened and a popular girl exited, laughing with the principal. Noah’s stomach dropped. Everyone knows a principal can go from zero to two hundred in one second, he thought.

  “Come in, Mr. Giancoli. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” the principal said. Noah gingerly stepped over the threshold. He had never been in this room before. He rubbed his elbow anxiously as the principal sat down.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” she said. “I just wanted to talk to you about something called the Senior Advisory Council. Have you heard of it?”

  “I’ve heard of it, but I’m not familiar with it,” Noah said.

  “It’s the students who petition for class privileges.”

  Noah nearly screamed. Is she asking me to be on this?!

  The principal continued: “A lot of things get done by class officers, but this is an opportunity to have another part. A legislative branch of sorts.”
<
br />   Noah nodded enthusiastically.

  “Would you be interested? Our meetings are once or twice a month, before or after school, over food, of course.”

  “Definitely! I’d love to participate.”

  “Good, good! I’m glad. Your teachers told me that you would be a great candidate for this.”

  “Principal Clayton, if you don’t mind, may I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who else is participating?”

  The principal named three other students from various social groups.

  “Thank you very much, Principal Clayton!”

  “Well, I think we’ll have a great council. I’ll talk to you later,” she said as she handed Noah a pass for seventh period.

  Noah contained his euphoria until he reached the stairwell. Then he began to skip slaphappily toward the stairs. Someone has recognized me and given me the chance to make changes! he crowed to himself, bounding up the stairs. And they’ve actually made a balanced council! The four of us will be able to unite, hopefully across all popularities, to make the school better!

  Noah tripped on the last stair, flinging his books all over the floor. He looked around to make sure the stairwell was empty, laughed to himself, brushed off his knees, picked up his books, and resumed skipping down the hall.

  ELI, VIRGINIA | THE NERD

  After check-in for Westcoast University’s freshman orientation, a volunteer announced that students in the business program should leave for their introductory session. Eli went outside, realized he didn’t know where to go, and stopped.

  While Eli had looked forward to the two-day orientation, now that he was here, he was scared. WCU was a sprawling campus, with tens of thousands of students. He wondered how many of them would judge him the same way his high school classmates did. The only way I’m going to make any friends is if I take the first step, he told himself. Okay. The next person who walks out that door is going to be my friend, whoever it is. He hoped that the excitement of “letting fate pick” a friend, as he put it, would override his jitters.

  Within twenty seconds a pleasant-looking Asian girl with stylish glasses exited the building and looked around. Eli didn’t give himself a chance to chicken out. Treat this like the first days of Spanish camp, he thought. Just be myself.

  “Hi, are you in the business program too?” he inquired.

  “Yeah!” she said.

  Eli inwardly cheered. She’s friendly! “Cool, do you know where you’re going?” Eli asked as they walked down the stairs. “Because I have no idea.”

  “I’m not sure either.”

  “Well at least I feel better knowing I won’t get lost on my own,” he said. “I’m Eli.” He held out his hand. She shook it.

  “I’m Lindsey.”

  For the rest of the morning, Eli and Lindsey made comfortable small talk before splitting up for the afternoon elective sessions.

  Just before dinner, WCU held a mandatory assembly for all incoming business freshmen. When Eli arrived at the lecture hall, hundreds of students were already seated. As he meandered up the stairs, he realized he was pleased to have chosen a university with so many students. In high school, he felt out of place whenever he looked for a seat. Here, it didn’t matter if he looked a little lost. No one was judging him. Already he could see that the campus could be as small or as large as he wanted it to be. There would be plenty of potential friends from whom to choose.

  Suddenly Eli saw someone waving at him from the front of the auditorium. Lindsey grinned and gestured to a seat she had saved for him. They spent much of the rest of orientation together and resolved to stay in touch over the summer.

  Already Eli felt more comfortable about his prospective social life than he ever had in high school. “College will be full of Lindseys: genuinely nice people that I can become friends with,” Eli said when he returned home from orientation. “I’m still scared about making friends and all that, but I just have to trust that everything will work out. Generally, I’m leaning more toward the excited than the nervous side now. ‘Normality’ is more defined in high school because it’s smaller, but it’s all relative in college. In time, I know I can find my own little niche.”

  JOY, CALIFORNIA | THE NEW GIRL

  At lunchtime, Joy spotted Anisha and Latrice walking toward her. Except for lunches with Joy, Latrice and Anisha didn’t hang out; an Indian AP kid and a black cheerleader were an unheard-of combination at Citygrove. Typically, Joy divided her free time in school among her friends. But today, these two were talking as if they’d known each other for years.

  The girls found a sunny patch of grass outside the biology classroom and caught up on each other’s day. After a while, Cleo knelt on the grass beside them. “We have the weirdest combination of people here: crazy Jamaican chick, Indian AP kid, cheerleader . . .” Joy said.

  “And cool, white artsy chick with funky clothes!” Cleo chimed in.

  “Wow,” said Anisha, looking around at the group. “We’re like the only people that do this! It’s a cool combination.”

  “That’s because we set our own trend,” Latrice said. “ ’Cause normally, the cheerleaders don’t talk to the AP kids, the white girl doesn’t talk to the black girl. People are left out! We move toward change.”

  Joy adopted a squeaky little-girl voice. “And it’s all because of me!”

  “Right, Joy!” Anisha said. “We love you!”

  “I love you too!”

  When Joy and Latrice walked away, Latrice turned to her and said, “I can tell you anything. I can trust you, and you’ll never give up on me, and you don’t judge me, and you’re always honest with me. You’re my best friend. Give me a hug, boo.” Latrice embraced her.

  The next morning was the first day of swimming in PE. In the middle of her first lap, Joy began to sink. She was a terrible swimmer; somehow, even in Jamaica, she had never learned how. She further submerged. Panicked, she flapped her limbs. She struggled to keep her head above the water.

  Suddenly, she heard a shout. “Go, Joy! You can do it!” Joy looked up, still flapping. It was Lupe, standing at the edge of the pool. Mia joined in, cheering her on. Soon several students echoed her former bullies, shouting encouragement. “Come on, keep going, Joy!” “You can do it! swim, swim!” Spurred on, Joy forced herself to plod to the end of the pool.

  That afternoon, between periods, D’Arnell approached Joy and Latrice. He talked with them briefly, then cocked his head at Joy. “Your accent is so funny,” he said. “Where are you from?”

  Joy cracked up. She had known D’Arnell since January and he never thought to ask.

  “She’s from Jamaica, duh!” Latrice answered.

  “Ohh,” D’Arnell said, thrusting his arms in the air. “You’re the Jamaican girl! Everyone’s been talking about you. You’re like the daily gossip, everyone asking me if I know this black Jamaican girl that moved here. Man,” he continued, “you are really popular . . . and the entire time, I’ve been hanging out with you. Whoa!”

  Joy laughed in surprise. People had called her many things, this year and always, but never once had she so much as imagined that classmates would consider her popular.

  BLUE, HAWAII | THE GAMER

  When Blue’s class filed into the arena, the noise was deafening. The stands were so packed that people spilled into the aisles and stood along the walls. In between camera flashes, Blue could make out some of the banners, featuring messages and photographs of students that families held for their high school graduates. “Aloha nui loa” (“All my love”). “A hui hou kakou” (“Until we meet again”) for a student entering the military. Blue was relieved that he wasn’t headed in that direction.

  When the students took their seats, the crowd sang “The Star Spangled Banner,” “Hawaii Pono’i” (the state song), and Kaloke’s alma mater. After various dignitaries spoke, the vice principals presented plaques to each of the school’s valedictorians. Blue was proud to see all of his SCH teammates receive thei
r plaques, but watching Michael stride across the stage gave him a special joy.

  After receiving her plaque, Angelique remained on stage to give the valedictorians’ address:6 “From the vantage of someone living a thousand years from now, the [last four years] may seem negligible. What that person may not realize is that each of those days have been as precious and unpredictable as this one. The yearbooks most of us have contain images of that time passing in a certain way. They set the conditions for a nostalgic expedition. Any memories evoked by our yearbooks take place ‘now’ at the moment they are called up in the mind. Every memory is a re-creation, not a playback. When we remember, we focus on certain facts and emotions, and become active participants in re-creating memories. Often we are guilty of restraining ourselves because of past embarrassments or limitations. We should never let those memories dictate or limit our futures; high school is not a model for the rest of our lives. It is only a stepping stone, a foundation for future success.

  “Any way you look at it, what made being in school interesting is that most of us are different from one another. Isn’t there something a little fantastic about that? It’s those differences in who we are, and the connections we make with each other despite those differences, that will make us great as adults.

  “Some of us may be at the point in our lives where we are desperately trying to define ourselves. If you think you’re one of those people, look to your teachers, parents, and friends. They are and always have been, the reasons you’ve grown up the way you have. My teachers encourage me to think deeply, my parents teach me to be kind and fair, and my friends inspire me and share their insights with me—Mark Laurent, the muse that speaks through me tonight, is the best example of an unconventional thinker that brings out the best in other people. Just like me, your understanding of the world is shaped by the people you love, and soon your constructions of the world will guide others. . . .