Scrolling through Facebook the other night, I saw a bunch of my high school peers had shared an article by Business Insider ranking the smartest public high schools in the country. My alma mater, Poolesville High School (PHS), had earned the rank of number ten. That’s cool and all, but if it were not for the number of people who shared it, I would’ve glanced at it and scrolled right by, never bothering to give it any more thought. Why is it that I find this accolade so unimpressive? Why is it that in light of being ranked number ten, I still refer to PHS as “good” and not “great”, “exceptional”, or “amazing”?

First of all, throughout my four years there, I was repeatedly reminded that Poolesville was a good school. Whether in speeches by the principal or on banners in the front hallway, it was hard to ignore that PHS was consistently ranked the number one school in Maryland. Accordingly, seeing that we were number ten in America wasn’t shocking to me at all. This is compounded by the fact that from Montgomery County (of which PHS is a member), five schools made the top fifty. Essentially, I came to expect excellence from my school, and as I was surrounded by other good schools, I didn’t see my school as anything special.

Then why did so many people find it impressive enough to share the link? Well it isn’t too hard to hit a share button, and as more and more people shared it, maybe it was just the thing to do, but for whatever reason I hesitated to hit share myself, and never did. The thought crossed my mind that I’d be showing off, but I can’t think that of my friends who did opt to share, and I don’t think that’s truly what stopped me. One might think that I didn’t share because I didn’t have enough pride or affection leftover from my days at PHS; the latter certainly isn’t true, but the former might be.

See, I loved PHS, and I still love PHS, but I feel that way because of the teachers, teammates, and friends I grew close to. Yet, here are the criteria that ultimately ranked PHS as number ten:

None of the things I love most about PHS are reflected, and so a national ranking isn’t something that when I think of Poolesville I feel pride for. Conversely, if Poolesville were ranked number ten for best cross country team environment, I would’ve shared that link in a heartbeat. As a student one year removed from walking those same halls, I can only think of PHS as the temporary home for the people I used to know and still know. I’m proud of my peers, and I’m proud of myself, and I should by extension be proud of the school, but I honestly am not. I’m incapable of seeing PHS as an institution. If I could see this, I’d see that these numbers are impressive, that for a school to produce such results year in and year out is a wonderful thing, and perhaps I would have shared the link.

Sure, I could leave it at that and suggest that it’s a matter of being too fresh out of high school, but it’s slightly more nuanced than that. Since high school is so close in my rearview mirror, I still perceive myself as directly benefitting from my time there. I’m here at Colgate and my classes aren’t easy and my goals for my time here are lofty, but I know I can be successful, largely in part because of the notion that to be admitted to your college is to be reaffirmed that you're qualified to succeed there. To think even partially that I’m here because I’m a typical product of my high school is unsettling. I prefer to believe that I’m here because of solely my own merit, and that it doesn’t matter that I went to a good school. That’s probably why I call PHS a good school as opposed to using a more favorable modifier. I want to deny vehemently that a school as a whole can claim responsibility for the success of individuals.

What does it mean to have gone to a good high school? It means I was lucky my parents moved our family to a good school system. It means that my high school probably played a large role in why I’m now at Colgate University (a school I also, perhaps inappropriately, refer to as merely good). For all this I’m becoming grateful, but the fact that I went to a good high school still doesn’t mean very much to me, and almost definitely not as much as it should, unless I engage in an intentional reflection like this one. I was never told to consider that my school was as much a part of my success as my own efforts, and it’s much easier not to.