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

by Alexandra Robbins

  “It is now time for our expedition into life after high school. Let us move forward with the intent to inspire the uninspired, so that someone living a thousand years from now will strive to follow in our footsteps.”

  In the cheers that followed, students nearby turned to Blue in amazement. “Oh my God, that was so good,” a girl said. “Holy shit, breh, you wrote that?” a guy asked. Blue was smiling too hard to answer. He had been surprised when the valedictorians had asked him to write the commencement address. He was floored to hear the line they had added about him. In front of thousands of people, some of the smartest kids at school had validated his intelligence.

  The rest of the ceremony moved quickly. Spectators threw fresh flowers and leis from the stands when students’ names were announced. When Blue walked across the platform, one of the administrators cracked, “I guess you didn’t drop out after all.” Blue smiled, met another graduate in the middle of the stage, stopped short, and gave her an emphatic fist bump, which the jumbotron broadcast to massive cheers.

  Afterward, the arena emptied onto the fields. At first, Blue looked around, feeling bare and sheepish, lost amidst reunions of families and friends adorning graduates’ necks with homemade leis. Finally, Michael appeared and hugged him. Then one of their SCH teammates gave Blue a lei that she had made of pink and yellow plumeria, his favorite flower. Within minutes, streams of people sought him out—sophomores, juniors, friends from other schools—to give him leis made of fresh flowers, nuts, beads, or candy. Ty’s mother gave him leis made of forty $1 bills. Even Jackson found him. “Let’s forget the past,” Jackson said sarcastically, but still hugged him and gave him a lei.

  Two hard-core gamers approached Blue, congratulated him on the speech, and gave him leis. As they left, one of them called out, “Oh, did you get the Starcraft II beta key? Dude, you have to play with us. RED TEAM!”

  Blue was gratified, knowing that so many people of various backgrounds went out of their way to find him. By the time he saw his family, he wore so many leis that his neck resembled a lion’s mane. “Oh, my baby!” Blue’s mother exclaimed and hugged him. “Did you really write that speech?”

  “Yes,” Blue said.

  “No you didn’t. Oh my God. No way.” Blue’s mother and brother, who had flown in from France, placed plumeria leis around his neck.

  That night, Blue skateboarded around town with Jess and Leilani, weaving in and out of hotel lobbies, laughing and talking through the early morning hours. As the sun rose, they returned to Blue’s house, giddy with possibility. “We were so happy that we wanted to throw up,” Blue explained. “It was that feeling that you get right before you’re about to do something crazy, right before you go into intense competition or something, that butterfly feeling. We were about to jump into our new ‘adult lives.’ ”

  Much of Blue’s future was uncertain. He had not yet told Michael that he wanted to stay together even though Michael would attend college thousands of miles away. Blue’s brother and his wife were moving back to Hawaii in August, but they did not yet know whether they would rent their own home, where Blue could live with them.

  All that Blue knew in this moment was that he was going to work hard at community college so that he could transfer to the University of Hawaii and reunite with the best friends he ever had. The UH futurology professor had agreed to allow him in his graduate-level course for college credit. And for now, that was enough for Blue. “I always thought that surrounding myself with people who brought me up in life was good. I just never thought that it would happen so naturally, or to me, like that stuff that happens in movies,” he said. “I feel a lot more secure with myself. Like I can be myself and there are people out there that will like me for it.” And there was something a little fantastic about that.

  DANIELLE, ILLINOIS | THE LONER

  Danielle began her summer working at Dairy Queen and as an assistant to her tae kwon do instructor. At Dairy Queen, the managers gave her additional hours because they were impressed with her work ethic; they said that other kids tended to stand around, while Danielle worked reliably and efficiently.

  In early July, Danielle’s mother and stepfather had Logan’s family over for dinner. Danielle and Logan spent most of the night talking to each other. They discovered they both were big fans of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, the BBC, and Shark Week. Danielle told Logan about the hate club. Logan listened sympathetically and said that seventh grade was her worst year too.

  Later that week, Logan invited Danielle to join her and her friends for Logan’s birthday. The group went out for pizza, played laser tag, then went to Logan’s house to play Super Smash Bros. Brawl on the Wii. Danielle was one of the last people to leave.

  The next day, Logan texted Danielle to tell her how much she loved the soundtrack Danielle had given her for her birthday. When they discussed soundtracks they liked, Logan suggested a music swap. Danielle brought her laptop to Logan’s house to trade songs. In Logan’s bedroom, pictures of several fish species dotted walls blanketed in fish wallpaper. A basket full of shells lay on a hutch above Logan’s desk, beneath a small plastic shark.

  Danielle noticed a book lying on Logan’s desk: Party of One: The Loners’ Manifesto. As she and Logan copied each other’s soundtracks, they discovered they shared other tastes: Riverdance, a random song they both loved in childhood, the movie The Swan Princess. A pile of books towered next to a full bookshelf, which was smaller than Danielle’s, but still impressive. They talked about Logan’s books as Danielle fingered the spines. The Snows of Kilimanjaro—Danielle wanted to read that collection. The Count of Monte Cristo, one of Danielle’s favorites. . . Danielle stopped short. There, on Logan’s shelf, was Blindness.

  Danielle wished they had started hanging out before Logan had graduated from Stone Mill. She realized she had more in common with Logan, whom she’d known for only a few months, than with any of her other friends, some of whom she’d known for more than a decade. Danielle was quietly overcome by a wondrous, heartwarming feeling because even though Logan would be leaving for college in a month, Danielle realized that she had finally made a new, true friend.

  ______

  31 TIPS FOR STUDENTS, PARENTS, TEACHERS, AND SCHOOLS

  When we left off with the Robbers Cave experiment in chapter 8, by the end of two weeks, relations between the Eagles and the Rattlers were so hostile that they were fistfighting. But the fake summer camp didn’t end after two weeks. During the third week, Muzafer Sherif reversed the experiment, devising collaborative activities that required the participation of both groups. The boys were tasked with fixing the camp’s drinking water pump and cooperating to push a stalled food truck up a hill, for example, and they were told they could go to a movie only if both groups pooled their funds. As the boys worked together, they gradually ceased the name-calling and the fighting. They began to intermingle at meals. They cooked campout food together, by choice. By the end of the week, the boys were singing together. The groups requested to share a bus back home; during a stop on the way, the Rattlers bought malted milks for all of the boys in both groups. Sherif called the turnaround “dramatic” and “striking to all observers.”

  The Robbers Cave experiment illustrates that even groups of people who believe each other to be despised enemies can overcome severe us-versus-them prejudice and rancor to the point of genuine camaraderie. The experiment, which has been replicated elsewhere, shows us that, even for today’s students stuck within or outside of seemingly unyielding group boundaries, there is hope that perceptions can be altered.

  Hope abides for another reason too. Early on in our work, Whitney said, “I would love to know what an emo or a wannabe thought about cliques and if they had the same pressures as me.” Sure enough, without my ever having to ask, one by one, students of various labels voiced laments similar to something Whitney had once expressed. As a Pittsburgh senior said: “I just wish people could see me as something besides a theater geek.” Dozens of students rep
eated the message of a New York cross-country girl: “It’s hard because sometimes people forget [that] most people have more than one dimension to them. Sometimes, the thing you enjoy most isn’t the thing you’re best at, and sometimes you want people to know you for all that you have to offer, not just one or two things you’re good at.”

  Although so many students have the same things to say, they cross signals in a maelstrom of misinterpretation, then lose sight of each other behind their stereotypes. A Nebraska sophomore, ostracized at school because of her high grades, said that one day the boy next to her was complaining about homework. Attempting to strike up a friendly conversation, she said that she was also swamped. “But you’re smart. You like doing homework,” the boy protested. The sophomore told me, “His response really got to me. Lots of students share his stereotype of smart kids. It was like he thought just because I aced a lot of tests and always remembered to do my homework, I didn’t enjoy the things that normal teenagers enjoy.”

  Just because students are different doesn’t mean that they have nothing in common. Old interests can be experienced with new people; new common pursuits can develop. As Blue learned from his SCH teammates’ admiration of his room and his adventures, new friends can appreciate your interests even if, and perhaps especially if, they haven’t been exposed to them before.

  As much as this book is about applauding students who dare to be different, it is also about how many of them ultimately long for the same thing. More than almost anything else, everyone I followed wanted a connection, someone to listen and to care. The gamer, the band geek, the new girl, the loner, the nerd, the popular bitch, the weird girl—to be sure, they were diverse individuals. But I hope I am not too naïve to think that had they met one another, they might have been friends.

  Students, parents, teachers, and school administrators can take numerous steps toward fixing the problems detailed in this book. To begin with, here is one approach not to pursue. In an article entitled “From Nerds to Normals,” sociologist David Kinney wrote, “Adolescents who were unpopular in middle school and who became involved in high school activities and friendship groups were able to recover by becoming self-confident and reconstructing themselves as ‘normal’ within a changing school social system.” No student should be encouraged—by anyone—to change himself until he’s “normal,” a term that says everything and means nothing.

  Yet this attitude is disturbingly common. Instead of revamping school policies to welcome every child, many school systems are bent on revamping the students to conform to their schools. Some systems are so horrifyingly regressive that they deliberately retool policies to make non-in-crowd students feel unwelcome and unwanted, such as the Mississippi county school board that cancelled the 2010 high school prom rather than permit a lesbian senior to wear a tuxedo and bring her girlfriend to the dance. The educational atmosphere can be so intolerant that in late 2010, five students committed suicide after being harassed because bullies believed they were gay. Two of the students were thirteen years old.

  Enough of this. Too many people have lost sight of the fact that the most integral part of a school’s success is the well-being of its students. The worst aspect of the treatment of cafeteria fringe isn’t the name-calling. It isn’t the loneliness. It isn’t even the regrettable demise of attitudes and programs that are important for fostering creativity, originality, and independence. The most heartbreaking consequence of this treatment is that so many tens of thousands of students—imaginative, interesting, impressionable people—think that they have done or felt something wrong.

  Here are some recommendations for students, parents, and school personnel to set things right and reclaim their schools.

  WHAT STUDENTS CAN DO

  Know that being different doesn’t mean you’re flawed

  First and foremost, there is nothing wrong with you just because you haven’t yet met people who share your interests or outlook on life. Unless you are doing something unhealthy or destructive, take pride in your beliefs, passions, and values. Know that you will eventually meet people who will appreciate you for being you.

  Give everyone a chance

  No matter your social status, there is plenty to gain from getting to know every student beyond a first impression. Do not automatically assume that you have little in common simply because you travel in different circles. And if you really don’t have anything in common with someone, don’t assume that you can’t be friends. Making an effort to understand and appreciate differences can be both enlightening and exhilarating.

  Keep in mind that loneliness won’t last forever

  Loneliness can be excruciatingly painful. But it is also temporary, and is not an excuse to engage in behaviors that make you uncomfortable. If you find that it is truly impossible to make friends, in or outside of school, at least take heart in knowing that you’re not the only one who feels that way and you won’t always be alone. In some cases, if loneliness slides into depression, it might help to talk about your feelings with a counselor.

  Try humor and confidence

  A Maryland high school freshman used to get teased about her obsessive-compulsive disorder habits, such as tapping on desks, turning doorknobs, and counting. “If someone asked why I was counting the tiles on the floor, I’d just laugh it off and say, ‘Because it’s fun,’ or ‘I just feel like it.’ Then they’d count or tap with me until we would both collapse on the floor with uncontrollable giggles,” she said. “Once people got to know me and my bubbly personality, for the most part they wouldn’t care about my little ticks and taps. My attitude saved me from withdrawing into myself and becoming completely embarrassed and antisocial because of my disorder, and helped people see me for me, and not my weird quirks.” Her outlook sets a good example for anyone who is criticized for being different. If you accept your own idiosyncrasies, others may accept them as well.

  A Virginia senior who has been homeschooled and, more recently, attended both private and public schools, has additional advice for peers. “I’ve had to make a new group of friends every year of high school, which sucks, but at the same time, I’ve always had a fresh start. I’ve learned a lot about making friends this way, and the best principles seem to be: listen to other people, be confident, act like you don’t need friends but maybe want them, trust that people will like you, and definitely never think you know everything.”

  Stop trying to conform

  There is a huge difference between being unhappy with yourself and being unhappy with your social status. I asked a Pennsylvania nonconformist who shuttled between emos and ghettos for advice for students who feel they can’t be themselves in school. She replied, “Continuously pretending to be someone you aren’t may end up turning you into someone you don’t want to be. There is someone out there who will understand you, no matter how far out there you are.”

  If you spend your school years repressing your identity, someday you’re going to graduate and realize that you’ve lost yourself only to appease a temporary crowd. Middle school and high school are the most difficult places in which to resist the pressure to conform. People who are able to battle through school without succumbing to fakery are going to be better off when they graduate.

  Find an ally

  In Solomon Asch’s line-matching conformity experiment, he found that all seven actor-participants had to give the same answer in order to effectively push the student volunteer to conform. Even one dissident was enough to encourage the student to say what he actually saw instead of mimicking the group’s incorrect answer. By extension, Asch’s discovery suggests that if you can develop at least one true ally within your group, you will have an easier time resisting the pressure to conform. Another lesson from Asch’s experiment is that even if everyone disagrees with you, you’re not necessarily wrong.

  Pursue nonschool activities

  One way to avoid reputational bias is to participate in afterschool activities with students from other schools who don’t already have
preconceived notions about you. If you choose an activity you love to do or are fascinated by, you’ll meet people with similar interests. Whether or not you end up with new friends, you can at least develop a skill and gain confidence in your abilities.

  Eli called his experience at Spanish camp the best time of his life because he was able to make friends without having to reinvent himself. The knowledge that he could have those relationships, even if only for a short time, sustained him throughout his senior year and gave him hope for a college social life.

  WHAT PARENTS CAN DO

  Remove social status from your list of worries

  Ultimately, social status does not represent a person’s identity, and high social status can come at a cost. Perceived popular kids might be more likely to drink, engage in risky behavior, and be involved in aggressive incidents. It’s okay to encourage your child to make friends (without pushing), but it can be destructive to put a premium on popularity.

  Don’t assume you know what your child wants

  Your child is not you. There are many reasons to avoid imposing your social experience on your child, especially when she already might be happy with her social circle. She may want only one or two close friends, and that’s okay.

  Whether you were unpopular, hoped to be cool, or were and still are popular, don’t expect the same experience for your child and don’t let your own insecurities influence your child’s social life. Before you react to or make decisions about your child, reflect on whether you are considering your own popularity or image as a factor. If so, rethink your position. Furthermore, your child’s social status does not indicate your parenting abilities. It may be tempting to get caught up in a frenzy of social comparisons among parents, much as children do. Don’t. Your child’s social standing does not reflect your own.