High school... It’s a jungle out there

LAURA GOULD/Charleston Catholic

By Justin Wymer
St. Albans High School

Countless speculators of our age exhaust themselves ranting over the existence of cliques and the social castes that they create. Most teens classify themselves by their implicit circle of friends — knitting themselves ever-closer together while rebuking those who aren’t in their group.

High school reality is a vicious hierarchy. In fact, it’s quite similar to life in a tropical jungle.

Level One:
Bottom-Dwellers

The dank floor of the jungle is littered with vermin — the outcasts of the outcasts.

Comparable to quiet millipedes, the Loners sit in dark corners of the lunch room, alone and content in their solitude. Their neighbors, the Goths and Freaks, occasionally scuttle like dark roaches to taunt them for their silence — feeding on every pained look that their slanders induce.

Typically, all of these lesser species exist as separate units, their barriers pierced only by the fluttering of the Band Geeks. These flightless fowl continually thump their puny wings in an attempt to transcend to the upper boughs of popularity.

Unfortunately, their trials prove repeatedly fruitless. They’re reduced to playing jumbled tunes of woe, appreciated only by the Emos.

Level Two:
Inhabitants of the Lower Limbs

The residents of the lower boughs are an extremely varied populace.

Nestled privately on the lower branches, the aforementioned Emos hide sulking in shadowed niches and crannies, often attempting to cut themselves with splintered pieces of wood. They’re the metaphorical sloth — rarely moving because of the seeming weight of life’s oppression, gray with moroseness and faces wrinkled to reflect the stagnancy of their soul.

Close in proximity but distant in heart, the Rednecks squawk like fraternal monkeys — planning on using their tails to strangle some lesser animals for sport, giddy at the thought of drying the skins for a trophy and comprehensible only to each other because of their strongly accented slang.

Squirrelly skaters attempt to practice their jumps from limb to limb to the dissent of the Tortured Artists (gaudily-feathered starlings), who busy themselves painting portraiture on the tree trunks.

Level Three:
Underlings of the Popular

The inhabitants of the upper branches exist as acquaintances of those above them. They’re sprinkled with brief tastes of popularity but left thirsting for life at the top.

At every angle, Preps are seen vaunting their stylish feathers and poking fun at those who aren’t as well-garbed. They’re parrots in a sense, as they spread gossip in cackling voices, careful to always twist the original story.

The Valley Girls perch nearby, giggling through painted faces and expensive perfume — nodding as though they care what’s being said, though their minds stray to envy Cheerleaders roosting above them. What with their mascara masks and Druggie boyfriends (popular merely for their “connections”), the Valley Girls resemble delicate orchids: undoubtedly gorgeous and deceptively stable, but liable to be crushed because of their worldly ignorance and lack of moral depth.

Level Four:
Animal Royalty

On their lofty perch beneath the sun, these residents are lauded like royalty by those below them. Not only do they drink in the sun, but they gorge on the admiration of their underlings. It doesn’t take much to ascend to these heights: a pretty face or a knack for athletics will do it.

One group, the Beautiful People, exist almost surreally: their beauty is unsurpassed by even the fakeness of plastic movie stars. It wouldn’t matter if they were possessed by demons, covered with ketchup or had a bad case of body odor - they look nice, so we love them.

Closely associated with them are the Cheerleaders, who are like butterflies. They, too, usually boast a pretty face and graceful figure (stick-thinness being a recurring trend in this group). Rarely you see them feed on the nectar of diet sodas or water, but they are frail, naked and plain beneath their prettily powdered wings.

Cheerleaders often mate with Jocks, the voracious lions who devour their faces and swap spit in the hallways. It’s a disturbing pairing, really, but I guess that’s high school reality.

The unclassifiable Nerd

It’s fairly hard to classify exactly where Nerds would be placed within this ecosystem. One cannot truly gauge a person’s intellect unless one knows this person well.

And, moreover, if one knew this person well, he or she would likely be friends with them and unlikely to expose their intellectual nature. After all, such exposure could lead to social repudiation and, possibly, exile into a lower level of the jungle.