Last night I reconnected with some friends from high school. I know that sounds like something a frisky 40 year old that just made their first Facebook would say, but it’s true. I haven’t made contact with the majority of my class in months. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been pretty busy living out my Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. Although rather than sex, I’ve been hunting down Pokestops in the hopes that a special someone will see me and ask me to play Pokémon Go with them, and one thing will lead to the next (wow, I am so sad) and rather than the city, I’m an inhabitant of bougiest, least exciting suburb on the planet (I actually saw a Lexus yawn yesterday). However, this is not the point; the point is that during this rekindling I was reminded of the weeks leading up to graduation and the T-shirts that almost tore my grade apart. The battle of the T-shirts is a multifaceted tale jam-packed with passion, tragedy, drama, lust, and privilege unrivaled by even the most poignant of wartime narratives. A tale of two sides, both justified in their convictions with strong arguments to back up their claims. You were either with them or against them, and I was just trying to stay alive.

The year was 2016; the seniors at my high school were antsy about their last day of school and the start of senior projects. Like at private high schools, college was a touchy subject to say the least. While some students wandered the halls terrified they wouldn’t live up to the Ivy League standards thrust upon them by their parents, others were just trying to pass statistics and submit the common app on time (made it with 5 minutes to spare). Despite our differences, we were all faceless zombies whose souls had been sucked out and defiled by the “college process.” But rather than talk openly about our shared experiences, we adhered to an unspoken list of guidelines, and unless you were intent on being ostracized during your last year of high school, you followed these rules like your life depended on it.

Rule #1

Never EVER ask another person where they are applying, no matter how close you are to them (although historically the closer you are to the person the more forgiveness you may receive for your breach in conduct). Also, if you ask someone for his or her SAT scores, you might as well jump off a bridge.

Rule #2

If someone does have the AUDACITY to ask you such a personal and invasive question, reply with enough ambiguity to suggest that you are confident enough to supply your classmate with a response and also smart enough to not actually reveal anything. An actual suggestion, we seniors received, from the College counseling office- “Don’t tell people where you’re applying, instead if they ask, refer to a region, that way if you get rejected no one will know and you won’t be embarrassed.” So, instead of saying “Stanford and UC Berkeley” we were supposed to respond with a simple “Oh, California,” as if the entire state were one big college. (This particular rule still cracks me up)

Rule #3

The only socially acceptable way to gauge your competition and find out who else is applying to the same schools as you (a necessity) is to go to information sessions at your school and survey the room while mentally breaking down your classmates, measuring their GPAs and extracurriculars against your own.

Rule #4

Never post about your own college acceptance on Facebook, while still criticized, the only acceptable way to inform family and friends of your acceptance, is to enlist a close friend/ sibling to post on your wall about how excited and proud they are of you. (I honestly don’t have an explanation for why this is a thing, I think it’s bizarre, but then again all of the rules are bizarre)

Rule #5

When you find out someone has been accepted to college via Facebook you may congratulate them in the appropriate social setting. When being congratulated on your acceptance be bashful and coy (the more shy the better), giving off the impression that you are humble and you haven’t almost died getting to this point.

Rule #6

On the last day of school wear the T-shirt of the school you are planning on attending next year.

While I found these rules outrageous, they were gospel and despite every inclination not to, I bought into the system. With so much uncertainty in the college process, many seniors found comfort in these guidelines. We may not have known where we were going next year, but at least we knew how to conduct ourselves with some dignity. That is, until our beloved principal made an announcement at the class meeting, that challenged our sacred covenant and threw the class of 2016 into a tailspin. He informed us that people were upset by the tradition of wearing college T-shirts on the last day, and we should think twice before choosing to wear them. Left to our own devices and without any clear direction on where we should go from here, the grade went into a full-blown panic attack. Our system was being tested and there was no clear and diplomatic response. While everyone around me was already having heated intellectual discussions about the benefits and drawbacks of the college T-shirt, I left the class meeting baffled, observing the hardwood linoleum that had transformed into a battlefield before my very eyes. A friend in the trenches approached me and remarked on how grateful she was that the principal brought up this matter, I agreed. “I know right, so important,” I responded, hoping I was on the right side of history (still not fully comprehending the complexity of the discussion or why anyone would care so much about a T-shirt). A few minutes later, another friend approached me, expressing her outrage at the principal's remarks, “I’m proud of where i’m going I should be able to wear my T-shirt,” she said. “Oh yea, totally, so unfair,” I responded faking anger and hoping only one of my two faces was visible to her. I didn’t have a strong opinion about it, but I hate conflict and I would say just about anything to avoid it.

That night on Facebook, lets just say, things elevated. Although I had an exam the next day in Environmental Science and a statistics project to finish, I could not tear myself away from the screen. Imagine 100 highly educated future lawyers, filled with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, then add entitlement and college T-shirts into the mix and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. I had seen such a combination of both eloquence and shade in my life. Paragraph on paragraph about these freaking T-shirts, I had to run downstairs and pop myself some pop-corn. It took me a while to comprehend all of the moving parts contributing to both sides of the argument, so let me sparknotes it for you real quick.

Those supporting the principle’s suggestion to ditch the college T-shirts, made the claim that wearing the T-shirts is hurtful to those who have been rejected from the schools that their classmates will attend and those who are still unsure of their plans for the next year due to waitlists. They argued that it if it is hurtful to even one person, it should not happen. Some claimed that the T-shirt tradition encourages elitism and is merely a way to see who has been accepted to ivy league institutions. As an alternative, they suggested that we all wear our gray and maroon school T-shirts in solidarity.

Those advocating for the college T-shirts had a number of statements to back up their argument. Some believed that because we have worked our butts off for four years, we should wear our shirts as a symbol of all of our hard work. Others argued for the tradition behind the ritual. One made the case that not everyone was accepted to a college, and there are tons of kids out there who dream of going to college and never do, so we should be aware of our privilege and be grateful for our access to higher education. We should acknowledge our gratitude by wearing our shirts with pride, even if we didn’t get accepted to our top school. There were also those who believed that the people who were anti- college T-shirt were being too sensitive.

The way I looked at it there was no winning. Both sides made valid and well thought out arguments, my friend group was divided, and people would be hurt no matter whom I sided with. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and add my two cents to the heated Facebook battle. I commented, “I think we should take tomorrow as an opportunity to support the ‘free the nipple campaign’ and everyone should just go topless.” People immediately dismissed my remark as a joke and continued to argue. My dream of being nude with my classmates died as fast as you can say Gloria Steinem. Refusing to be silenced, I took to Twitter hoping some lighthearted fun would calm down my seething classmates, it didn’t.

School was a war zone the next day. If you weren’t talking about the T-shirts, you were in class doodling furiously about the T-shirts. Groups huddled outside the senior center whispered about their views on the situation, stopping as soon as someone walked by in an attempt to keep the peace. It was a cold war in the hallways, but full-blown combat in the senior center. People were shouting, drawing diagrams, and performing skits on the possible consequences of not wearing the T-shirts. I shifted my views depending on who I was talking to, still unsure of how to stay alive and be on the right side of history. I thought I had a pretty good system until my two-faced ass was busted by my two friends with opposing views who both thought I had sided with them. Whoops.

When the day finally came to wear the T-shirts, half of us were wearing our gray school shirts and the other half- were wearing their college T-shirts. The diplomatic few wore their Sidwell shirts with their college shirts underneath. I had a mild panic attack attempting to get dressed for school that morning. If I wanted to wear my college shirt, but I didn't want to come off as inconsiderate of others feelings. Halfway through the day I found a way to satisfy all parties, including myself, even if I did get ink poisoning.

I think this story is especially important to rising seniors who may get caught up in all of the college drama next year. Our grade blew up, but at least we were able to talk about it. We went for so long following these dumb rules and not questioning the feelings of others or ourselves. I implore you to challenge the way that your grade handles the college process and break the rules. Looking back on it, I wish I had been more open with everyone about my experience and I see how useless it is to be secretive. It eases the burden you carry to be able to talk about your shared experiences. I am glad we opened up this discussion, even if the school did turn into a war zone for a few days. We created a dialogue and realized that the rules we created only ended up hurting ourselves. So, stop seeing each other as competition, talk about your fears, talk about your rejections, celebrate your successes, wear a T-shirt if you want to wear a T-shirt, and f*ck the rules.