When I was a young one in youth group, there were all these high school kids who seemed like whatever the early 2000’s version of the bees’ knees was. Probably something along the lines of, “Just the coolest.” The adults loved them, they walked naturally into leadership roles, and they all hung out together. They were this picture perfect group, the kind that you send to conferences as a representation of your youth group or send to interviews as a positive sampling of your youth choir. I guess they were the popular kids, just like any group has popular kids. To me, at the time, it just seemed that this was How Things Were Done, and you didn’t question How Things Were Done.
Some year, I was probably in 8th or 9th grade, there was a meeting of youth choir directors at my church, and they had a kind of panel with some kids from our youth choir. It’s beyond me to say what the purpose of the panel was- maybe they wanted to hear what we liked or disliked about our choir and then take those insights and questions back to their own choir? Who knows. But I remember making a comment about how we had had these older kids who seemed like rock stars to me and how, after they graduated, we didn’t have that anymore (it was a transitional year), and how that was a tragedy of sorts. In response, one of the choir directors told a story, as adults who speak to children and teenagers are wont to do, about how when some of those strong voices graduated from his choir, the choir as a whole actually got better. It turns out that those strong voices had been singing flat.
As a Christian, I live and die by understanding the hidden meanings behind parables, so of course Middle or early High School Me would have read the meaning behind that statement. It was probably maybe about working better as a group even though the leaders had gone and finding new leaders or something. But, in fine Christian tradition, I misunderstood the parable, at least at first. It never occurred to me when I was a kid that the older popular kids could have ever been at fault. I completely missed that bit of the story, the part with the flatness.
Now, on the flip side of history, looking at that weird mess that is teenage life from the adult side, I see the same things happening. But now I have the problem of liking the popular kids. I weirdly seek their approval. This is something I completely don’t understand because it’s the opposite of what I would have done in the past. When I was growing up, I couldn’t have consciously cared less about what someone else thought about me, other than grown-ups. I was too busy reading or practicing or helping out adults to be worried about what people my own age thought. I got called an old soul and I want to claim that title, but I don’t know that I deserve it. I think I was just a focused soul, one that couldn’t be bothered with people her own age.
But then I got to college and post-college and suddenly the people my age were people whose approval I wanted. I wanted friends who liked me and I wanted strangers to walk away with a positive impression of me and I wanted to excel at work because money and resumes and the future, and also, I want people to like me. I started to think more about how other people perceived me and how I measured up to others. And, as the story always goes, I started to see how much I fell short in those comparisons.
That’s a shame, because I like the person I’ve become, with the exception of a few items that have left room for improvement. (I promise, Body, we’re going to start jogging again and taking multi-vitamins. Stop whining so much.) I have friends who like me. I have friends among the kids at youth group who like me. We’ve found the weird things that make us awesome and just embraced that. Given the option, of course I’d hang around with these kids.
And I want to tell them to say, “Screw it, I don’t need you anyway,” when the popular kids come around, but I also know that the popular kids have the ears of the adults. The popular kids are in positions of leadership. The popular kids can sway the direction of the group. If the popular kids don’t like you, even if they aren't vocal about it, you’re left to fend for yourself and that’s hard in teenage-land. The problem here is not with my wonderful little weirdos who’d be friends with anyone who walked their way with a smile on their face, it’s with the popular kids who know they can pick and choose and that others watch their picking and choosing. It's that they don't choose to wield that power for good.
This is not new territory. These are not new stories to be told. We all went through this. My question, though, is why do we continue to go through this? Why do we, as adults, who know that this tiered structure of high school is happening, do nothing to stop its perpetuation? Is it because we know that the rest of their lives are going to be lived out in some semblance of a popularity contest? Or are we just too apathetic or self-absorbed or afraid to step in and make any real changes?
I suppose it’s all a little revolutionary, telling everyone they’re equal even if they’re quiet or too loud or don’t know what to say when they meet someone or say the most awkward thing possible or don’t know how to connect with others. It must be really outside of the box to give a person value despite a lack of social skills. We are, after all, social creatures. It’s our default state to value those who can navigate the social waters with perfection.
Only… can I ask you one thing? This week, this month, this year, use the energy you have to choose once, just once, to do something other than default. Get past that devaluing you want to do. Invest in someone, and not just someone you like. The world will be a better place if we do that. If we all do that.
