The Misanthrope's Corner - democratized high schools cause social problems in teens - Brief Article - Column

National Review, May 31, 1999 by Florence King

I am constitutionally incapable of shedding a tear, either real or crocodile, over the Littleton massacre. When you've seen one pile of teddy bears you've seen them all; when you've read one cover story blurbed "WHY?" you've read them all; and when you've heard one best- and-brightest "articulate" teenager being interviewed you have heard everything.

This time, however, I am not alone in my cynicism. Everybody is searching earnestly for "root causes" and the "Lesson of Littleton," but under the requisite sensitivity lurks a rogue voice whispering a cold truth: One of the best-kept secrets of American life is the number of people who have fantasized blowing up their high schools.

That this forbidden thought has begun to peep out from some unexpected quarters is proof of how widespread it is. On talk shows devoted to Littleton, numerous guests of the thoughtful 'n' concerned persuasion seemed driven to confess that they, too, were teased in high school, including a plump, yellow-haired psychologist named Butterworth who made a jocular but revealing remark to Geraldo about having been the butt of adolescent jokes because of the combination of his appearance and his name.

Judy Mann, the Washington Post's resident backpage feminist, came across as uncharacteristically brusque in a column called "High Schools Are the Real Problem." Predictably, most of her animus was aimed at the cult of macho jocks and the cheerleader-as-handmaiden that defeats the dream of perfect sexual equality, but she zapped high-school culture as "sick, demeaning, and depressing" and aligned herself with "generations of young people forced to coexist in large public schools that many of them hate."

That's pretty good for a tolerant liberal, but when Bill Maher turns into a crusty curmudgeon we know something is up. The host of Politically Incorrect is actually nothing of the kind and neither is his show, but his Littleton outburst was pure H. L. Mencken:

We now live in a culture that not only glorifies violence, but even worse, glorifies high school. . . . We have this upside-down culture that panders to youth in a way that is harmful to kids and terribly boring to adults. . . . It's okay to adore youth, but to pretend it has something to tell us is ridiculous. . . . [H]igh school isn't real life. It's just four years of embarrassment and boredom and pettiness, where nothing much happens; sort of like the Carter administration.

If most of Europe's intractable geopolitical problems can be blamed on the idealism of Woodrow Wilson, most of America's social problems can be blamed on our glorification of high school. Interestingly, both started around the same time. Before World War I high school as we have come to know and hate it did not exist. The vast majority of Americans stopped school after the eighth grade, leaving high school to the middle class-the real middle class, not today's deluded alpine bell curve. High schools, as their name implied, were essentially public prep schools, and excellent ones at that. The tears I can't shed for Littleton I can easily shed for myself when I read descriptions of third-year Classical Greek in old high-school curricula.

Under this sensible hierarchical arrangement the two groups guaranteed to hate each other parted company before they reached the inferiority- complex stage of adolescent development. The minority of nerds, drips, and brains were in high school, while the majority of studs, sexpots, and dunces were spread out in the working force, making mutually assured psychological destruction logistically impossible.

Then along came the usual suspects, democracy and equality. More and more people went to high school, until a generational peasantry formed. As with all revolutions, everything got a new name. Youngsters became "teenagers"; school, grounds, and diploma became "plant," "campus," and "degree." The resulting Omnium Gatherum was called "the best years of your life," and cliques erupted like zits.

Nearly everyone has been warped by the democratized high school. The rudeness encountered in Tech Support is widely viewed as a revenge of the nerds, but I would go further and attribute computer viruses and even the millennium scare to smart kids getting even; some genius out there has known all along how to fix Y2K but he's not talking.

And then there's me. If I had had private tutors this column might be called "Melanie's Corner," but instead I went to high school where I forged my credo: "Whatever the majority is doing has got to be wrong." High school, where I became an anarcho-elitist from overexposure to friendly "student leaders." High school, where the girls who recited Mickey Rooney's wives in the cafeteria made fun of me for reciting Henry VIII's wives in history class, prompting my development as a misogynistic feminist.

Ironically, the people who are warped most by high school are those golden lads and girls who are not warped by high school. Being popular at this stage of life means subscribing to adolescent tastes and priorities that can never be shaken off. When the star athlete's brief gaudy hour is finished he turns into the roly-poly Maytag repairman sunk in puzzled loneliness, wondering why no one needs him. The luscious cheerleader who told brainy girls "I'd love to get my hands on your hair" ends up looking like Medusa top and bottom, her varicose veins springing in all directions just like her frizzy home-dye job. Voted "Most Likely to Succeed" in high school, they end up as lost winners who can't figure out what hit them even though they were once forced to memorize it for the lit test: "Golden lads and girls all must, / As chimney-sweepers, come to dust."