Celebrating Shorter

Yesterday was Celebrate Shorter. It's this campus-wide event where they cancel class to counter-intuitively celebrate student achievement. The fact that it occurs on April Fool's Day isn't lost on me. Basically, the day goes from 9 to 4:30 (about the length of my normal Wednesday), and there are different student-led events around campus at all times to show just how smart and accomplished we all are.

Oh, this is also the day when we get all of the awards.

So, I raked in awards yesterday. I got the "Excellence in Theatre Studies" (three years running, now), "Loue P. Newman Award for Excellence" (Outstanding senior that shows academic strength, leadership, involvement, quest for knowledge, growth in spirituality, etc...basically, the most ultimate senior at Shorter this year), and the "Thelma Hall Creative Writing Award" (best creative writer on campus).

So, two quick stories about Celebrate Shorter and why I think it shows some major issues in my time at Shorter:

1. During the Awards Lunch, I broke one of my cardinal rules of eating at any place that doesn't have assigned seating (I had an assigned table). I sat in the corner seat. This only gives one the possibility of three conversations while an end seat has two and a middle chair has five. The philosophy of always picking a middle chair is that if a conversation gets awkward or stagnates on one side, I can simply turn to the other side and enter whatever they are talking about. But, in the interest of saying as few inappropriate things as possible, I cornered myself. Bad move.

So, when we sat down, salad and cake were already in front of us. Then they brought bread, tea, and water. And we weren't allowed to eat anything until after ALL the awards were given. Wrong answer. Being the classy individual that I am, I ate both the wedges of cheese from my salad and snuck a roll during the athletic awards.

But, anyway, I was sitting across from two upper administration people and I had a professor of mine seated next to me...so, I have to mind my manners around the adults. Which means I can't talk a whole lot. And so they talk...about their lives...and their kids...and the school...and their kids...and then they talk about the kids some more. At one point, the male upper administration asked if he should get his daughter the Disney phone that allows you to check your child's location via GPS and check their phone calls (and I guess texts) from any computer.

They debated this for awhile, and as the conversation was winding down, I said it seemed a little Big Brother. He said it wasn't being Big Brother, it was being a parent. Properly chastised, I shut up. And started wonering what his children's lives must be like.

My parents never felt the need to check up on me. They knew I was a good kid. They trusted me to blaze my own path and if something went wrong, I'd either ask for their help or handle it on my own. If they had tried to micro-manage my life like that, I would have rebelled to another country. I would have ex-patted to a place so distant that it costs too much to call on the telephone. And if this is the kind of attitude that infuses something as simple as a choice of cell phone, then I can only imagine what the rest of the privacy policies of that household are.

Granted, I understand the need to know what is going on in a child's life. But looking over their shoulder is going to make them needy, obsessive-compulsive, and paranoid. Children won't trust their parents with big issues because their parents' have proven themselves untrustworthy. Trust, like respect, for every human being is earned and not something that is naturally instilled. I know that this sounds a bit idiotic, but maybe, just maybe...kids can sometimes take care of themselves.

This reminds me of a Violent Acres post that I read that covers a very similar subject and is worth a look.

Second story in the near future.