Let’s rewind to high school. Public education was kind of the ninth circle of hell, right? Flatline boredom occasionally relieved by staccato blasts of education and more social drama than a soap opera. Personally, I was just an underthe- radar Libra with a bad attitude and a Diet Coke addiction.
I know high school is a “ best of times, worst of times” kind of thing. I met m y best friend in the 10th g rade — and my arch-nemesis (a student-teacher named Mr. Wiederhold who resented how frequently I utilized class time to paint my nails). Junior year, I learned how to appreciate good music — and my little sister got shanked in the head with a pencil (she ’s fine). Same story senior year, with one small variation: the student body officers.
Every senior class has its elected officials. For the sake of tradition, not the student bod y’s actual well-being, so did ours.
The 2012 SBOs were like the Kardashians of high school, if the Kardashians were in charge of organizing prom. Politically insignificant, they conducted school assemblies (I assume, since I didn’t attend any), pestered everyone about fundraisers and read the announcements over the intercom each Tuesday.
The Kardashian with this particular duty — let’s call her Kim — took sick pleasure in reciting the mundane announcements as cheerfully as possible. No one has energy at 8 a.m., even after a Diet Coke and the adrenaline rush of competing for a parking spot in the undersized student lot. But Kim wasn’t like normal humans. While most people have calcium-based bones, she had a skeletal structure made of school spirit. While the average high school student’s heart pumps blood, pep ran through her veins. Every week after Kim led us in an enthusiastic Pledg e of Allegiance and promised our football team would definitely win that weekend (it didn’t), she signed off with this phrase:
“Make it the best day ever!”
Kim was (and presumably still is) the nic est, friendliest human in the Western hemisphere. But her enthusiasm made the entire school cringe.
Despite general student dis – comfort and repeated requests by the administration to stop, Kim kept up her camp aign of optimism. Every Tuesday without fail, we had to hear “make it the best da y ever!” as though this was a likely occurrence in high school. Everyone hated it. Being force-fed positivity is not pleasant.
I’m in college now, and every Tuesday passes without Kim’s good-morning chirp. It’s nice to have breathing room. I can have a bad day if I want to.
Yet it’s getting harder and harder for me to have good days. The best day ever, in my book, would include donuts in every class, A’s from every professor, meeting my celebrity crush (Tom Hiddleston), a puppy, free Diet Coke and the fourth season of BBC’s “Sherlock” (too soon?). None of that’s going to happen. But back in high school, Kim ’s Tuesday announcements made me feel like there was a chance, that my day was in my own hands, even if I r esented it a t the time. The stress of college and adulthood has stolen that control from me, and I don’t like it. Give it back.
Bad things happen, and so do good things. But it’s not an equation — six g ood things plus four bad things don’t equal a good day. I like the idea o f choosing, even if that sometimes requires more optimism than seems humanly positive.
So I say, make it the best da y ever. Carpe diem. Don’t stop believing. Etc.
e.juchau@chronicle.utah.edu
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