by Mira Vale
Several months ago, on one of those slushy, post-Ides of March days that only technically qualify as spring, I officially began the notorious and harrowing College Process. This harbinger of hassle came to me in the form of a deceivingly benign pink packet, curled inside my North house mailbox, cleverly timed to precede the inevitable onslaught of junior year standardized testing. The packet asked me to file my high school experiences and achievements under such headings as “Significant School Activities” and “Work Experience” for my guidance counselor’s letter of recommendation-writing convenience.
When I finally sat down to categorize the last three years of my life, I was surprised to find how nicely the most vital parts fit under the various bolded categories, until I hit the final part. “Special Interests or Abilities,” the pink paper posed. I was floored. I haven’t composed a symphony or invented a life-saving medical apparatus.Contrary to what adoring grandparents would have me think, I am not the “World’s Best” anything. I know some high school kids who are, and I view them with only the highest and most reverent regard: All the more power to them. But where does that leave everyone else? Imagine a college essay penned with an Aristotelian air. How would an attitude of “everything in moderation” go over with admissions officers?
I see this dearth of moderation as the primary plague of modern times. Across the nation, it seems that everything we do is defined in terms of extremity. The standard of beauty shrinks thinner and thinner, but the waistlines of Americans continue to expand. We want our SUVs, our televisions, and our muscles as big as possible. We want our Internet connections and grease-steeped food as fast as possible. As the price at the pump demolishes previous records, our president short-sightedly implores oil-producing countries to suck the ground dry. We pay actors, athletes, and musicians millions each year, but we pay our teachers so little that many are forced to work two jobs.
Don’t think that we must look as far as Hollywood or Washington, D.C. for such examples of excess. According to one of the kinder definitions available at urbandictionary.com, Sudbury is a town “where the cars in the parking lot of the high school collectively cost more than it did to build the new high school.” Though the ‘CEO-daddy-bought-me-this-shiny-black-car’ stereotype is likely untrue for most licensed upperclassmen, there is definitely a certain reverence for automobility that supersedes the effects of the greenhouse gases these vehicles emit. Walking the halls of L-S, it is not uncommon to overhear the pleas of a temporarily disenfranchised driver, begging a lift home (G-d forbid she or he should be forced to endure the bus for a day.).
Sadly, I see this attitude against temperance spreading widely across the Lincoln-Sudbury community. Parents who dished out $600 for their daughter’s prom dress and limo rental refused to give as much to her education in helping to vote down this year’s override proposal. Students drink from—and fail to recycle—water bottles containing the same combination of hydrogen and oxygen atoms available for free in fountains across the school. Plastered with brand names on every conceivable category of clothing, students strut the halls, flaunting their excess with pride.
Lest you think me a critic of consumerism alone, let me extend my question of moderation to the politics of L-S. At one recent forum, a student argued that it is harder to be a conservative at this school than to be gay, a comment that started something of a school-wide controversy. While I would argue the specific terms of the statement, I admit without reservations that the voice of L-S’s conservative population is in certain respects unduly silenced. Between hearing horror stories of the “conservative kids” confined to a corner in one class to seeing how students silenced a lone outspoken conservative in another, I feel saturated by the views of the liberal majority and lament the infrequently expressed conservative perspective. I ask no one to adopt a more moderate political view; I only ask that we listen and express our views in moderation.
I don’t profess to be above the allure of pelf, power, and product, but I do hope to learn to subvert it. For all you caught up in this world of excess, humor me for just a moment. Think about the products you buy, the media you absorb, the food you eat, the clothing you wear, and the things you say. Think about the things you allow others to say. Force a little introspection, and try to analyze your actions and expenditures in terms of moderation. And as far as those devilish college apps go, try not to feel obligated to be that five-sport varsity athlete, bagpipe virtuoso, cure for cancer discoverer. Maybe someday college admissions officers will believe in moderation, too.
