Instead of being one of those kids who has taken the entire TCHS course curriculum and participated in ten Common App-worthy activities, I’ve gained meaningful experiences in high school simply by binge watching TV shows. As much as I’ve fantasized about being on the television screen, I’ve done just fine having my life imitate art.
“Dance Moms”
While my dance talents extend only to the rigor of Period 4 Advanced Dance, my tendency to compare myself to my peers has often felt strikingly similar to dance teacher Abby Lee Miller’s pyramid, in which she ranks her students from worst to best. Much like the girls who danced on the Junior Elite Competition Team to win trophies, I went to school to get the highest test scores.
Although I basically burned myself out by drilling in nearly every word of my Honors Biology textbook during freshman year, I continued to obsess over always being first. I connected with Maddie, Abby’s favorite, on a spiritual level: manipulation to get ahead was my forte. This mindset was unhealthy and hard to break out of (considering my shifty methods usually benefited me), but it slowly became evident that having a strong support group gave me more valuable victories. That’s why Maddie left the team: first place became meaningless, especially when her best friend was Abby, a crazy woman, instead of the other girls on her team.
But having a competitive streak isn’t a bad thing. I feel most motivated when I know I have a chance of winning something, and that equates to honest, hard work. As sneaky as it was that Maddie signed up for numerous private classes without the other dancers’ knowledge, she was putting in extra hours—she just needed to drop the shady attitude surrounding it. With my own versions of privates and extra hours, I’ve become a leader in Rampage, Link Crew and beyond.
While my dance talents extend only to the rigor of Period 4 Advanced Dance, my tendency to compare myself to my peers has often felt strikingly similar to dance teacher Abby Lee Miller’s pyramid, in which she ranks her students from worst to best. Much like the girls who danced on the Junior Elite Competition Team to win trophies, I went to school to get the highest test scores.
Although I basically burned myself out by drilling in nearly every word of my Honors Biology textbook during freshman year, I continued to obsess over always being first. I connected with Maddie, Abby’s favorite, on a spiritual level: manipulation to get ahead was my forte. This mindset was unhealthy and hard to break out of (considering my shifty methods usually benefited me), but it slowly became evident that having a strong support group gave me more valuable victories. That’s why Maddie left the team: first place became meaningless, especially when her best friend was Abby, a crazy woman, instead of the other girls on her team.
But having a competitive streak isn’t a bad thing. I feel most motivated when I know I have a chance of winning something, and that equates to honest, hard work. As sneaky as it was that Maddie signed up for numerous private classes without the other dancers’ knowledge, she was putting in extra hours—she just needed to drop the shady attitude surrounding it. With my own versions of privates and extra hours, I’ve become a leader in Rampage, Link Crew and beyond.
“Scandal”
I like to think that I put on the white hat when I joined Rampage, just as Olivia Pope did when she founded her crisis management firm, Olivia Pope & Associates (OPA). However, anyone who’s seen an episode of “Scandal” knows that Olivia can be an absolute mess, which is how I felt from the moment I became a sophomore baby. My irrational fear of Ms. V and the editors in Rampage kept me up at night, and I was shocked that I might actually not be bopping to the top in no time. I thought InDesign would have the same difficulty as Microsoft Paint, and I didn’t consider beforehand how my shaky hands wouldn’t produce the best photos. However, with persistence and support from those intimidating leaders, I eventually learned to love improvement and integrity.
I even became an intimidating boss myself! I still dread yelling “If you can hear me, clap once,” and internally go berserk every time people find mistakes in the school paper. But Olivia taught me to be a gladiator who slays dragons and stitches up wounds to fight another day. And it doesn’t hurt that the Rampage staff is its own OPA.
I like to think that I put on the white hat when I joined Rampage, just as Olivia Pope did when she founded her crisis management firm, Olivia Pope & Associates (OPA). However, anyone who’s seen an episode of “Scandal” knows that Olivia can be an absolute mess, which is how I felt from the moment I became a sophomore baby. My irrational fear of Ms. V and the editors in Rampage kept me up at night, and I was shocked that I might actually not be bopping to the top in no time. I thought InDesign would have the same difficulty as Microsoft Paint, and I didn’t consider beforehand how my shaky hands wouldn’t produce the best photos. However, with persistence and support from those intimidating leaders, I eventually learned to love improvement and integrity.
I even became an intimidating boss myself! I still dread yelling “If you can hear me, clap once,” and internally go berserk every time people find mistakes in the school paper. But Olivia taught me to be a gladiator who slays dragons and stitches up wounds to fight another day. And it doesn’t hurt that the Rampage staff is its own OPA.
“Lights, Cameras, Candace”
No TV show reflects every nuance of my high school career, but if one were to exist (take notes, old white executive TV producers), it’d have my ugly screeching cackle as a laugh track. I have spent most of my time in school wishing I could be somewhere else, but the one thing that’s kept me present is humor. Whether it be falling out of my chair more than once or strategically planning how many tissues I’ve needed for the 12+ times I’m sick in the year, comedy has made school tolerable and kept me, me.
I haven’t changed much. I’m still the girl with frequently fake enthusiasm and a tight friend group that loves me enough to deal with it. Lame puns and odd dancing in the rare times I feel excited (or the multiple times I feel exhausted) remain key during my life’s largest plot twists. I can proudly say the only difference four years has brought me is merely physical: I have not as clear skin.
Now as I get dethroned from my reign as Editor-in-Chief and queen of the school—a title I humbly offered myself—I think of all the moments I’ve captured with a cast I’m lucky to call friends and family. No one reads TV credits, but I’m thanking every person listed in mine.
No TV show reflects every nuance of my high school career, but if one were to exist (take notes, old white executive TV producers), it’d have my ugly screeching cackle as a laugh track. I have spent most of my time in school wishing I could be somewhere else, but the one thing that’s kept me present is humor. Whether it be falling out of my chair more than once or strategically planning how many tissues I’ve needed for the 12+ times I’m sick in the year, comedy has made school tolerable and kept me, me.
I haven’t changed much. I’m still the girl with frequently fake enthusiasm and a tight friend group that loves me enough to deal with it. Lame puns and odd dancing in the rare times I feel excited (or the multiple times I feel exhausted) remain key during my life’s largest plot twists. I can proudly say the only difference four years has brought me is merely physical: I have not as clear skin.
Now as I get dethroned from my reign as Editor-in-Chief and queen of the school—a title I humbly offered myself—I think of all the moments I’ve captured with a cast I’m lucky to call friends and family. No one reads TV credits, but I’m thanking every person listed in mine.