We all know that there are cliques on Concordia’s campus. We all talk about them like it’s no big deal that they exist. We all abide by the social norms these cliques have implicitly set in place. Why? In high school, they always tell you that it will be different in college – that there won’t be a social ladder anymore and that everyone will be friends with everyone. Wouldn’t that be wild? A truly utopian thought. I graduated from Eden Prairie High School, and we had a wall on the second floor where all the kids at the top of the totem pole would hang out. This spot was known as “the wall,” and for band nerds like me, it was absolutely horrifying. We don’t have anything quite as explicit as “the wall” here at Concordia, but we aren’t a whole lot better.
First, let’s get all these cliques out in the open. I know I’m not telling anyone new information, but the stupidity is simply too obvious not to mention it. There are those on East campus – the “sports-ballers,” if you will. These guys are known for the following things: sitting on the far side of DS, taking two glasses of Powerade and/or milk at every meal, only eating food from Sizzle, making a fashion statement of saran wrap and ice packs, having long hair and loving themselves a lot because they are used to being idolized in high school. We also have the people who essentially live in Hvidsten and are characterized by singing way too much in public, attacking DS all together at the same time every night, being music education majors, thinking their major is harder than everyone else’s and loving themselves a lot because they can hear intervals. Every once in awhile, you’ll have someone who crosses the bridge between music and athletics and does them both, and I have no idea how to categorize these people other than “superhuman.”
Music kids and sportballers are definitely the two biggest cliques on campus, and other than the superhumans, these groups rarely ever intertwine. There are obviously more cliques than just these two, and I am terribly sorry if I didn’t include your “squad,” but there simply aren’t enough hours in the day to address them all, so I figured I’d tackle the most prevalent ones.
Can we all acknowledge the fact that we are technically adults, yet some of us will never interact with each other simply because of who and what we associate ourselves with? That is pretty darn lame. I’d love to say that I’m above all the immaturity and that I know none of these people are better or worse than I am. I’d love to say that I give everyone a chance no matter which clique they appear to be in. But, I’m not and I don’t. With all the wisdom I bestow upon this paper each week, you might be thinking differently, but alas, I am simply human. So, I’m going to continue attacking all of your actions, but just know that I am a massive hypocrite and I’m critiquing myself as well.
Dear sportsballers, I do not care how many Sportsball Cups you won in high school. I do not care how lit your weekend was. All I care about is how you balance your plates atop your two glasses of Powerade because it is nothing short of magical.
Dear music kids, I do not care how difficult you think your music major is. I do not care how wildly excited you are to finally not be the odd one out. I do not care how much you practiced today.
Here’s what I do care about: that we stop acting like children and start acting like the adults everyone tells us we are. We’re involved in different things! That’s cool! I fully understand that it’s easiest to be friends with the people you spend the most time with. What I don’t understand is when we treat the generalizations that I listed earlier as fact and refuse to recognize the unique individuals that lie underneath the surface of the clique. And, although I didn’t address every clique on campus, this can be applied to all of them. Cliques in and of themselves aren’t necessarily a bad thing, but writing off certain people because your cliques don’t normally intertwine is a bad thing. Learn things about your peers and let them surprise you.
And with that, I leave your corn buttered.
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