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“Miko Wu is the most fascinating subject that has come in a long time. Even you can’t dispute me on this,” I said. Emmerich glared at me; you could practically see the word “skepticism” branded across his face. I always had a way with framing arguments with him. “I see you’ve been working on your logos arguments. Well done.” Score.
Satisfied, I began to reflect on the immense value this case study would serve to humanity. Throughout the years of this so-called institution of “high school”, hundreds of people have pondered the underlying framework of the caste system developed almost by nature in high school. It’s been a topic of great concern due to the fact that, well, it’s fascinating.
How do teenagers implicitly understand the workings of their own society? It simply consists of unwritten rules, intuition, and a natural leader.
The perfect opportunity to see high school society in action? Lunch. Cliques divide as soon as the first person steps into the cafeteria. Jocks go with the jocks, nerds go with the nerds, goths go with the goths.
There is no need for a person to lecture on how the system works; everyone already knows it by heart. The “lame” kids don’t mess with the “popular” kids; the “popular” kids don’t mess with “the popular kids”. You could compare the social networks to the Union Pacific Railroad—thousands of pathways available.
From the brief time I observed Mr. Wu, I knew he had to be at the bottom of the pyramid. Even though he acted strange, he had this particular feeling that he emitted. For some unexplained reason you just didn’t want to get close with him, you couldn’t trust him.
The key to figuring out the idiosyncrasies of high school society is to find the underdog. “Popular” kids have other tragedies to worry about: who’s dating who, who won the football game, who scuffed their brand new $5000 shoes. No, the underdog knows it all. They have the time and perspicacity to comprehend the social structure underlying all high schools.
Mr. Wu is the underdog. And he’s the only one who could help us with this question of the century.
--
“Oh, Emmerich, it’s just like the good ‘ol days! Let’s compare schedules!” Emmerich shot me that infamous death stare (as I like to call it) and shoved a crumpled piece of paper at me. “I can’t believe you convinced me into doing this, Gregor.”
“It’s high school. We’re profound psychologists. Or in other words, simply marvelous. We’ve survived it once; second time’s a charm!”
“I believe you mean third time’s a charm, but lightning strike me now if you make me do this again.”
“Lighten up! Imagine all of the publicity we’ll receive once again when we publish this dissertation! Ah, I see the stars in your eyes again!”
“That’s because I’m emotionally disturbed by these children in the hallways. Did you see that girl back there? Her companion pushed her into me! Her scream was so high-pitched I’m surprised my eardrums didn’t pop on the spot.”
I rolled my eyes at Emmerich; he wasn’t any fun in high school the first time either. I handed back his schedule, covered with my scribbles. We had the exact same schedule. Guidance was never that generous back then. I had to beg and plead with Ms. Jacobson to switch me out of—ugh, I hate even thinking of the word—physical education for AP Biology. How could she even begin to comprehend the fact that P.E. was more beneficial for me?
I snapped out of my nostalgic daydream when Emmerich amicably punched my shoulder. First block was English Literature. My passion for writing was about 1/10 away from my passion for psychology.
Mr. Wu did not see Emmerich and I immediately. However, once attendance was taken he immediately glanced over his shoulder towards us. I half-smiled and Emmerich paid no attention. I assumed he was "day-dreaming", in Emmerich's sense of the word.
After class, Mr. Wu stealthily walked up to us; I jumped when I saw he was there. "Why are you here? In my classroom? Did you find my folder? Please tell me you found my folder!"
"I'm sorry, Mr—I mean, Miko. We did not find your folder."
"But Dr. Gregor—"
"Please, call me Calina. It is high school, after all. Consider us your friends."
"I don't have any friends nor will I ever have friends. All I need in my life is that folder. Okay, Calina?"
I looked away, feeling as inferior to this seventeen-year-old as I would have when I was seventeen. "You're involved in a case study, Mr. Wu." I figured switching to formality would lighten the situation. I didn't want to anger him again.
"No, you do not have my permission, Dr. Gregor!"
"See, Gregor? We can go home now," Emmerich piped in.
"Please, Mr. Wu? We'll have a better chance of observing your surroundings to help you find your folder. We'll be killing two birds with one stone."
"What is the case study? Will it really benefit with helping to find my folder? Don't lie to me, Dr. Gregor."
"We are studying the innate social structure that high school envelops. Yes, observing the people around you will further assist us in finding 'suspects', or whatever you may call them."
"Fine; but you better intertwine this case study with my search."
“Of course, Mr. Wu.”
“Thank you.”
With those final words, he quickly disappeared out of the room.
"You've dug us into a deep hole, Gregor. A very deep hole."
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