As you have all gathered from our lovely ex-president’s speeches last year, Northsiders evidently have issues with ethics. We “hide Mary Jane in our graphing calculators”, and academically compete to the death. Hopefully one day, the faculty will stop pretending like the student body doesn’t know all about the cheating scandal of 2010. We are smart, sure, but with intelligence comes ruthlessness, and today, said attitude was addressed.
Perhaps the most telling part of today’s colloquim was the school reaction to a lecture delivered on ethics by a Northwestern Professor of Philosophy and Theology.
After entailing the views of three major philosophers, said Professor opened the floor up for questions. Questions were predictably asked, and although the Professor tried his best to answer him, his words were barely audible under the din of disapproval. Why? Because the questions asked were entirely inappropriate and irrelevant to the professor’s lecture, causing Northside to erupt in harumphs.
Such a reaction causes one to wonder, is it truly necessary to focus on ethics at a school that obviously cannot stand one or two rude questions?
Let me remind you of someone you would rather forget: your eighth grade self. More likely than not, the average Northsider was “that kid” at their grade school; the kid that was too smart for their own good, and was often misunderstood and under challenged. Haven’t we all experienced good old fashioned bullying? Weren’t we all “four eyes” or “that nerdy girl” at one point in our lives?
At Northside, we may have undergone a metamorphosis of sorts. Some of us have contacts and a new wardrobe, others of us have discovered extracurricular talents, and along with that, a group of tight knit friends. But our past experiences remain the same, and in that Northsiders find a sense of kinship.
Sure, there are bound to be a couple of kids at NCP who have never endured bullying, never break out, never get stressed before a test, and have never endured hardship. And as humans, we all have the tendency to be hostile at times.
Yet, Northsiders share a common past, a common past that allows for a community environment.
And at the same time, Northsiders share a common present. We suffer through all-nighters together, understand the plight of an AP Biology student before a Lab is due. Has this common understanding manifested itself into an unhealthy relationship of “collaborative work”? Perhaps it has.
But let us focus on what becomes apparent in the light of examination: whether it is Immanuel Kant or Regina George, our ethics remain steadfast.
In the end, Northsiders stand for the stressed student, the day-to-day struggle for excellence, the difficult discourse of innovation, ideas, and intelligence.
And perhaps this is the true maroon test of Universalizability.
I cordially invite you to real life. No, not the one that your parents raised you in - the one that involves a lot of sweat, tears, and Soulja’ Boy. That’s assuming he’s your cup of tea.
“But wait! People still listen to Soulja’ Boy?” I wouldn’t call his music “music”, but for brevity’s sake, we’ll call it music. However, it’s somewhat confusing to connect to what he babbles about, especially his Pretty Boy Swag. What could he possibly be singing about?
Every day, we walk a fine line. Between grades, between women, between politics, between religion. I wish I could list it all out. We argue, we disagree, we affirm. We sleep at night with a feeling of accomplishment - or disappointment. We reboot, and repeat this notion.
Depending on how life plays out, we might be repeating this routine from anywhere between twenty to one hundred years. Each day, we amass this queue of mental videotapes. Whenever it’s quiet, we think about those moments. Some are more memorable than others, and others mean a lot to us. As the years pass, we value these moments more and more. Age gets the best of us, and we laugh at how some of us were capable of running sub 16 5Ks. Those were the days.
As we move away from youth, we move closer to death. Death waits for us, pondering if he should eat us right now. Whether it’s a bus whose brakes don’t work, or a freak accident at school, it’s waiting. But it’s not as bleak as it sounds. Death isn’t cheap: it requires a lot of work and energy. He prefers it to be easy.
It’s our job to make death as difficult as possible. I’m not saying eat right or exercise every day (although I advocate those activities). I’m saying go outside, and enjoy life to its fullest. Go skydiving one day - sneak in a road trip or four. Strike up a conversation with the prettiest girl on campus: You might never see her again, or even better - you’ll see her every day. Okay, so waking up in the hospital isn’t too much fun - but one day, you’ll tell your grandchildren that story, and they’ll not only laugh, but love you a little more. Every time we engage in these activities, death frowns - he would like us to die sad, sappy individuals. We have to make sure we don’t. How do I plan to go about this tonight? By not studying for my macro final.
Every year around October 31st, Northside hosts a dance to celebrate the Halloween holiday, complete with Mean Girls appropriate outfits for the girls, the occasional Lady Gaga impersonator, that couple who dresses up as Waldo, the girl who makes a Port-o-Potty outfit, and at least four Sarah Palins.
As of last week, there were either not enough chaperones to supervise the dance, no club to sponsor it, or some other obstruction from actually planning this dance, but upon hearing of the supposed catastrophe it finally struck me: it doesn’t matter whether we have a dance to celebrate Halloween.
Here’s a hypothetical to illustrate what might have happened. Let’s say 300 students would have attended the Halloween dance. Let’s say 120 would have been freshmen, 60 would have been sophomores, 60 juniors, and 60 seniors (read: this may be a skewed exaggeration). Out of the 120 freshmen, 40 would have stood awkwardly on the outside of the center of the dance floor, or else outside, clustered in groups of wishing-we-weren’t-wallflowers. About 15 of the seniors would have been inebriated to some degree, give or take a few, and a few juniors, and sophomores as well. At least two sophomores would make out without remembering it. There would be at least six girls in the bathroom at all times. 20 or so freshmen boys would ask an upperclassmen to dance, and 15 of them would get turned down. Maybe three freshmen boys would finally ask their crushes to dance. All three would get yes for an answer. After too many flashlit-juke-breakups by chaperones, the adults would give up and let the students embrace their hormones without any real inhibitions. At ten o’clock, tinnitus would be all the rage, parents would ask their flushed daughters how the dance was, boys would go to their friends’ houses, the lights would come back on.
But would one single night change Northside? Would the loss of such dancing make things worse? Or would it instead offer this type of hypothetical?
Of the 60 seniors, 30 would finish an essay for their early-action or early-decision deadlines (this is Northside), five would catch up on Gossip Girl or The Office, and 15 would host their own party. Of the 120 freshmen, 40 would go to bed early, 20 would trick-or-treat in their neighborhoods, and 60 would share smaller get-togethers with just a few friends. Of the middle-classmen, the 120 would-be-dancers would pursue various pursuits, from APUSH essays to film nights to sleepovers in their basements. I cannot describe all the possibilities.
As Northsiders, we are innovative. Without a school-sponsored event, we will brew our own wild romps, conjure our own festive bacchanals, collaborate our own haunts. It doesn’t take a cleared-and-then-decorated cafeteria to make us get our groove on, and without the limitations of guest forms and paying for tickets three days in advance, we will infuse more spontaneity and city-wide collaboration into our Halloween parties.
In short, a Halloween dance is not imperative to Northside’s culture. I trust that my peers will be able to entertain themselves and each other with unprecedented creativity; that drama will ensue; that as a student-driven community, Northside will prosper.
No, not so-and-so’s disastrous new hair cut, or what’s-his-face’s less-than-fashionable neck animal. Not the view from your new inflated upperclassman ego. Not the obnoxious cluster of ever-shrinking freshmen. No, not that.
Do a slow head turn, a good, sweeping 360 degree crane of the neck, and you will notice that Northside is undergoing a demographic drift.
What do I mean by this?
Well, two years ago, a rather insightful student remarked that she could count all of the African American people in our class on her hands.
And, at least until recently, this has been the sad truth. Northside has been dominated by those of Caucasian and Asian descent, a racial divide clearly present. Sure, compared to a lot of suburban institutions, our school looks like the Olympic Village, but every student knows that, like the race-based neighborhoods of Chicago, people tend to coagulate in race-based clumps, making NCP’s lack of diversity painfully apparent.
This year, we’re seeing a lot more diversity.
Why?
Some say that last year’s admissions process into Northside leaned heavily on neighborhood selection, dictating that Northside pull more from impoverished Chicago neighborhoods. Others say that a No Child Left Behind-esque motion caused a select few students to be pulled from poor neighborhoods (seeing a pattern here?) and put into Northside. And still others point towards racial quota based funding, pointing their fingers towards the forever needy hands of Northside’s ‘treasury’.
Obviously, the truth is not straightforward.
How will this change Northside?
I’m not entirely certain. I’ve conversed with a few students who are not happy, convinced that the quality of the school will plummet to depths likened to Payton (god forbid!), and others who think this is the greatest thing to happen to Northside since the lunch lady’s uncovered the formula for the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
Who knows? Maybe Northside is in the middle of a Renaissance, a quiet shift to a more accurate portrayal of the world that we Mustangs are so intent on conquering.
In the words of a certain Urban Philosopher, we’re “crossing the street”, taking steps across roads that once acted as impenetrable Berlin walls of racial tension.
Aliens, in their most distilled form, are individuals who do not conform to societal standards. Aliens are everywhere - some wear brightly colored shoes, some wear butterfly wings to school, and some sing in the hallways. Be it as you may, the aforementioned are not “normal.” Chances are that if you’re reading this, you’re an alien as well.
You go to this ridiculously smart high school. Students wear brightly colored shoes, art kids wear butterfly wings to school, and everyone sings in the hallways. The average ACT score is 30, and teachers seldom have to worry about disciplinary actions that torment traditional high schools. Your band teacher has perfect pitch, you have an economics teacher that puts every college professor to shame, and best of all, you have an undefeated football team - and that’s something a lot of schools can’t say.
And as this goes on, many people hate this place.
People hate this place for a myriad of reasons - choices range from “The people here suck” to “It’s a nerd school, so nobody’s cool”. I encourage you to step back from your reasoning, and consider the following.
I’ve met a lot of good kids in the CU. Every time I tell them about my alma matter, their jaws drop. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing everybody in the school - a lot of them were nobodies. Teachers didn’t know their names, and how could they in classrooms of 40 and counting? Their music programs were sad excuses, and worse, the people were unpleasant. The list goes on and on.
Okay, I’m sure that didn’t convince you to “un hate” the school. But one year from now, you will be stepping into either the workforce, or an institution of higher learning. Whatever you pursue, you’ll start to appreciate this school more and more. Some of of my peers reluctantly say “Welcome to the real world”, and they couldn’t be farther from the truth. You go to a school that is the real world - that is, if everything in our society was idealized. There’s nothing wrong with that either, and it didn’t stop me from enjoying it for 4 years.
If I didn’t convince you, then I have no apologies. One day, you will find yourself wearing normal shoes, cutting down your butterfly wings, and muting yourself in favor of others, thinking “I really was an alien.” And instead of cowering in shame, you’ll smile. And trust me, it’s going to be the biggest smile you’ll sport next to getting married.
First of all, an apology is in order. At one point in time, I explained that our writers were busy students, dictating that we wouldn’t be able to write as frequently as we liked. But enough is enough. If this blog were a cute big-eyed kid, Child Services would have shackled us to a life sentence by now. We extend our most heartfelt apologies for our neglect.
You might have thought this blog was abandoned. Truthfully, it might as well have been. If you haven’t guessed, one of our more prominent writers graduated, taking his opinions and his pen with him to an academic institution that’ll go unnamed for now. He was one of our more frequent writers, with big ideas, and a quick wit, not to mention a dear friend. With his absence, I was quite ready to fold and call it a good run. I’d packed my proverbial bags and was ready to hit the road when we, surprisingly, attracted a notable readership.
Now, on the principle of being an anonymous critique, any readership is notable to us. But this reader didn’t just sit in front of our articles, read, chew, digest, and move on. No, he contacted us and complimented us on our nice Atlantic theme (thank you, I’m something of a minimalist myself), but chastised us on our infrequent posting.
The guilt trip worked.
With a new year comes new illustrations to be made, new idiosyncrasies to be dissected, and new issues to discuss, topics that have necessarily given re-birth to our underground pulse. Is this cause for raucous cheer? Or a simple nod of acknowledgement as you scroll down your tumblr dashboard for more interesting things? We don’t know. But we are here for your perusal, quietly observing the passing of time in our esteemed academy.
Readers, we are back in business. The open sign has been flipped, our thinking caps are on, and we are ready to roll.
By the way, that writer we lost? It turns out he’s decided to come back and talk about life after NCP. Life works out after all.
I never understood why people eschewed a chance to go to College. Naturally, I thought they were crazy - it’s nearly impossible to obtain a job without a degree. And without money, how are you going to put food on the table? It’s evident: College is necessary.
That was my mindset nearly 12 months ago.
It’s July 1st, 2010, and I ask myself why I signed up for such an escapade. Every year, nearly $40,000 is drained from my parent’s paychecks, and goes to my school. Multiply that by four (or, God forbid, five or six), and you’re sitting on enough money to buy nearly anything you can imagine.
It’s no surprise that Tuition rates have gone up nearly four-fold in the past two decades. What is a surprise is that more students are applying to college.
Some of those students genuinely want to go to college, be it to party, learn new things, or take a four year hiatus from home. But for the rest of us, we’re making a terrible decision.
Without a college education, most of us would be flipping burgers at our local fast food joint. I’m assuming that the yearly pay is about $20,000 - that’s not a lot to live off of. For most of us, that’s enough to send us packing to our Universities.
However, that’s just money. Imagine all that time you have when you’re not in a classroom. It probably feels similar to a truncated summer vacation. Yes, you’ll spend some of it working, but the rest of that time is for you - and that doesn’t require a $40,000 down payment.
By locking yourself in a 12 x 10 room for four years, you’re forfeiting what’s arguably the most expensive amenity money can’t buy. We can’t stop it, but we can make the most of it. I firmly believe that if most of us decided not to go to college, we would find success in this world. Life experiences, new people, a new passion - maybe throw in an unexpected encounter. Tiny things that shift our perspectives. We all can’t be Bill Gates or Steve Jobs, but given a large amount of time, anything we imagine can come to fruition.
Now of course, some of you will declare college an “investment of time and money.” To be honest, that’s one of the riskiest investments you or your parents will ever undertake - they’re dumping their time, their money, their hopes, and their dreams on you. And you will never be able to return their investment in full.
We live in a society where college is required, but look around: A vast majority of people around us probably did not finish college, let alone apply to it. And they look perfectly fine. They’re not wealthy, but they’re not poor either. They’re also pretty damn happy - something you can’t be when you’ve got to repay nearly $200,000 in loans.
In the next decade or so, I hope to see college enrollment decrease to a more reasonable point. We don’t need to be sending all of America’s teenagers to an institution of higher learning if they won’t utilize it correctly. Heck, you could see College as one giant dead weight loss. And let’s remember one important fact: College is a business. They’re here to make money, and we’re their target audience.
If colleges really wanted to convince me that they’re not a waste of time, they would hand me a diploma and four years of my life back. But until we invent time machines, that’s not possible.
Graduation is tomorrow. It’s heartbreaking to admit, but I should have never met many of you.
Many people view life as one continuous action without a break. Being an opinion, there is no logical manner to refute this argument. However, take a second, and view life as a slideshow.
This slideshow runs on an old, rusty projector. The projector cues hundreds of images per second in a random fashion. The chosen images are shown for a few seconds until the next one replaces it.
From that, we can conclude that these images are being thrown into the projector by the hundreds, if not thousands. The randomness of this projector is all determined by the director - he has the ability to pick the slide. It’s a matter of variables - the timing of the director, the speed the pictures move into the projector, and how long he keeps the pictures displayed.
That’s only 3 variables. Statistically speaking, there are hundreds of possible combination of pictures, and hundreds of possible sideshows.
Now open it up to hundreds of variables. Think about things like the time of day, mood you were in, lunch choice, if you biking or taking the bus, or if you woke up late or pulled an all nighter.
These real life variables raise the question: How did my slideshow end up with a picture of you in it? Statistically speaking, it was almost impossible. A conservative estimate would have put it at maybe a 1/1000 chance of that happening. (and that’s very conservative, mind you.)
The math tells it all: I should have never met you.
I could have decided to blow off my Northside entrance test. I would be sitting in a classroom at NDHS right now. And with that goes everything that makes me who I am - I wouldn’t be able to bike to school (or even know how to bike), I wouldn’t be a pseudo hipster-nerd, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be a musician.
I wouldn’t even be half as happy.
It’s incredible to see how life is nothing but a roll of the dice. Choices are made everyday that influence the outcome of many events. If you stay at home tonight, you’re closing yourself off to many possible outcomes. Maybe you’ll get dumped? Maybe you’ll find yourself at a party? Or maybe you’ll catch the guy who’s about to rob your house - and that’s assuming that he decides to rob your house.
Tiny, minuscule events like these have created this world we know. People we know well may as well be considered an accident. But we really don’t question them, or question the fact we know them: We accept it.
That’s a pretty big mistake. I’m not saying you should always ask yourself “why do I know them?”, but rather, acknowledge the fact that it should have never happened. And when you admit that, turn it on it’s side, and be thankful it did happen.
It’s things like this people ponder at home. Or at graduation.
I was walking out of gym class, a little sweaty across the brow, enjoying the pre-Christmas break weather, when a girl crossed my path, wearing what seemed to be an atrocity.
The unfortunately dressed female was wearing a t-shirt, Ugg boots, and black leggings—the kind that, previously, had usually been worn under denim skirts, or tunic-style dresses.
Appalled, I chalked it up to a wardrobe malfunction, and moved on.
Little did I know, fashion was about to be revolutionized.
From photo shoots, to physical education locker rooms, “leggings-as-pants” have become a dominant fashion style. Taking the place of denim, t-shirts are now more often found paired with black, patterned, or even lamé leggings. Girls strut like scantily clad birds, no longer ashamed to show their proudly defined legs, and, what was affectionately referred to by an adult teaching at NCPHS as, “hind quarters”.
But one must ask, why leggings as pants?
From the ‘cons’ side of the table, it’s indecent, and unfashionable. While it may have taken root in the wardrobe of the every-day girl, you’d be hard pressed to see this trend at work on runways in Paris, Milan, or Tokyo. After all, fashionistas strive to find more artistic ways to cover their body, preferring instead denim emblazoned with foreign prints, or short 60’s vintage skirts.Especially paired with Ugg boots, affectionately referred to by the late Alexander McQueen as “American Loaves of Bread”, leggings seem crude, crass, and downright unfashionable.
The other side of the coin claims comfort and ease. Leggings allow for a flexible life style, complete with a sleek, feline look, paired with the athletic ease of any Olympian. Leggings also are easily paired with just about anything. You can go for the more modest and traditional “leggings-with-any-top-that-covers-one’s-butt” look, usually accomplished with the help of a large sweater or short dress, or you could opt for the more racy ‘all-tight-leggings-and-tank-top (or something equally as scandalous)’ look.Both are strong fashion statements, and enhance the individuality that fashion, in its best state, is meant to promote.
We’ve all read the flimsy attempts of the CPS news system to create a ‘hip and upcoming’ fashion magazine feel to its publications. To be frank, they’ve all fallen short, instead coming off as juvenile attempts at pairing elementary colors, or embarking on irrelevant quests, such as finding the perfect dress to wear to one’s cousin’s baby sitter’s dog walker’s best friend’s confirmation. This article isn’t trying to tell you what to wear, how to wear it, or why I’m certified to tell you things about fashion. No, this article is about making you aware, especially if you’re still wearing clothes picked out by your mother (another disparaging trend at our school). Fashion, like life, is ever changing. Sometimes for the better, other times for the worst.Today, we’re providing you with a brief snapshot.
