Death Metal and Disney
Back in year 10, we used petri dishes in science – little
shallow dishes full of jelly, to which you add different bacteria, stand back
for a bit and see what happens. Results varied each time – sometimes nothing,
sometimes something interesting, and sometimes something dangerous. The petri
dish analogy is one that can be used not only in school, but to describe it in
its entirety, replacing bacterial colonies with those of humans, and the petri
dish with a school.
I’m sure that everybody who has, at some point, attended a public school in this country will have encountered these clichés before, for there are very specific groups that form within a school environment, filled with specific individuals.
Beginning at what they like to think is the top of the food chain, we have the ‘popular’ ones – a niche, very select group of individuals, who don’t do homework, swear a lot, and wear round sunglasses and suits with no socks to prom. They believe themselves to be above the next group, those who float in the middle, the metaphorical jelly in our societal trifle. Those who just get on with things but have fun while they’re doing it. Sprinkled with a smattering of interesting characters, still with a slight range, this group tends to span between those who like FIFA, those who like Disney, and those who like Pokémon. A mix of people, for sure, but still able to be grouped as the generic sort who make up the majority populace of the school structure.
Entering the next few categories, things begin to get interesting. In my experience, from here on out we tend to find the population dominated by boys in the middle of the teenage years, with links to the two previously described groups. These clusters include those who are still finding themselves, still on their own internal journeys, who will look back in a few years’ time and wonder if they were even the same person at all - such as those who listen to death metal and have long hair and consider monster energy a necessary accompaniment to any meal. More mild examples include the kind of boys who, for instance, choose practical subjects like construction and woodwork, not because they have an interest in the subject matter, but because they like missing geography and having access to saws.
But the most memories come with the arrival of the real loose cannons. Those who need no affiliations to tie them down, or any clear group to belong to. You know the type, those who seem to be a few fries short of a happy meal, who sit in the back corner of maths classrooms eating crayons and threatening people with scissors. The ones who, for no discernible reason, spend their breaktimes trying to punch sparrows, or throwing pens at squirrels. The lives of these people are a mystery, but everyone loves them because they bring a bit of spice to the day, and nobody knows quite what they might do next. Throw a chair through a window? Attack a teacher? Set fire to the science department? Quite often, it comes dangerously close to all three.
I’m sure that everybody who has, at some point, attended a public school in this country will have encountered these clichés before, for there are very specific groups that form within a school environment, filled with specific individuals.
Beginning at what they like to think is the top of the food chain, we have the ‘popular’ ones – a niche, very select group of individuals, who don’t do homework, swear a lot, and wear round sunglasses and suits with no socks to prom. They believe themselves to be above the next group, those who float in the middle, the metaphorical jelly in our societal trifle. Those who just get on with things but have fun while they’re doing it. Sprinkled with a smattering of interesting characters, still with a slight range, this group tends to span between those who like FIFA, those who like Disney, and those who like Pokémon. A mix of people, for sure, but still able to be grouped as the generic sort who make up the majority populace of the school structure.
Entering the next few categories, things begin to get interesting. In my experience, from here on out we tend to find the population dominated by boys in the middle of the teenage years, with links to the two previously described groups. These clusters include those who are still finding themselves, still on their own internal journeys, who will look back in a few years’ time and wonder if they were even the same person at all - such as those who listen to death metal and have long hair and consider monster energy a necessary accompaniment to any meal. More mild examples include the kind of boys who, for instance, choose practical subjects like construction and woodwork, not because they have an interest in the subject matter, but because they like missing geography and having access to saws.
But the most memories come with the arrival of the real loose cannons. Those who need no affiliations to tie them down, or any clear group to belong to. You know the type, those who seem to be a few fries short of a happy meal, who sit in the back corner of maths classrooms eating crayons and threatening people with scissors. The ones who, for no discernible reason, spend their breaktimes trying to punch sparrows, or throwing pens at squirrels. The lives of these people are a mystery, but everyone loves them because they bring a bit of spice to the day, and nobody knows quite what they might do next. Throw a chair through a window? Attack a teacher? Set fire to the science department? Quite often, it comes dangerously close to all three.
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