Business Day.

So, I was telling Andrew about how crazy The Blake School (1900) is. I was telling him how my friend and I managed to freak out my friend's girlfriend when we were telling her about a little Blake tradition called Business Day. I will do my best to explain how crazy the concept of Business Day is but I highly doubt I can explain it as funnily as R2 did during his senior speech at Blake.

In 8th grade, Blake students go through a rite of passage called Business Day. You and a group of two or three people spend first semester preparing to sell goods and services to parents, classmates and teachers during a day in January. Sounds simple, maybe people have lemonade stands, right? Wrong.

First off, the social studies faculty really should provide a disclaimer that warns students not to be partners with their friends. Every year there are several friendships that fall victim to Business Day. Business and friendship don't work. Especially when you are angst-y, emotionally immature 13 and 14-year-olds. The only reason I am still friends with J., one of my Business Day partners, is because I had never even talked to him before he invited me to join his group.

Anyway, they have slightly changed the rules but you could pretty much do anything you wanted for Business Day. Some people sold boxers, others sold cookies, and some people ran casinos. The rule with casinos was that you had to get something for your money, so losers would be send off with a can of pop. We sold polar fleece mittens, headbands and neckwarmers.

Anyway, after groups were formed, your group could bid to be in charge of utilities. In addition to your main business, your classmates then would have to come to you in order to buy electricity or advertising.

In order to raise funds for your business, you have to sell bonds to your classmates. This was done in order to prevent someone's parents (theoretically) from bankrolling a crazy expensive company. The thing is, that you can set your interest rate as high as you'd like. So on the bus, everyone would try to get 6th and 7th graders to give them money by getting into an interest rate bidding war.

Then Business Day happens and the clothing companies usually sell the most. We were the highest grossing company at Business Day. If you make a profit, you get to keep the money. However, the flip side of that is that, if you lost money, you had to pay out of pocket. Poor R2 did radio controlled racing and one of his teammates was supposed to make sure that the cars were not the same frequency. The key word is "supposed". R2's group ended up losing $200.

And actually, you don't get to keep all the money because the teachers levy a tax on your business after Business Day and used the tax money to buy things for the school like printers.

Business Day was fun and a good learning experience but I STILL cannot believe that Blake actually allowed 8th graders to raise capital from their classmates and run a business (sometimes into the ground) and to operate casinos. I don't think you can run casinos anymore but that still...

Andrew insisted that business day would make a great post, so here it is.

Fin.

Senior Speech: Drunk Ducks and Penguin Suspenders.

At my high school, Blake, every senior is required to give a speech to the student body at some point during the school year. I currently serve on a diversity advisory board for Blake and at a recent meeting, I was told that my speech is one of the speeches the Upper School had students of color read as an example of the experiences of students of color. My speech is about my college visits and, looking back on it, I cannot believe I decided to go to Williams after visiting, not once but two fucking times. Anyway, I've decided to post that senior speech. Enjoy!

Drunk Ducks and Penguin Suspenders

I’d seen some pretty weird stuff of my thirteen years at Blake. A pumpkin thrown through a classroom window, a classmate voluntarily locked in a locker for over an hour, and a student duct taped to a pillar. However, I saw some even weirder stuff during my college trips.

Over MEA [Education conference - the entire state has a day off. Blake students get two days because it's coupled with conferences. - B] my mom and I ventured out east, our first stop was American University in Washington D.C. At American, I split with my Mom and met my friend Danielle for an “insider's" tour of campus. Our first stop was her dorm room. As we walked down a hall, Danielle gestured towards a room labeled "sorority office", and remarked, "Sororities here are kinda lame. The can't have houses because of some DC law." It turns out that DC has a law that says more that six women living in a house constitutes a brothel. Contrary to popular belief, brothels aren't legal in DC. Later, as we strolled by the school parking ramp, I asked Danielle if she had any interesting stories she would like to share. Casually, she says, “Lately there have been some deaths. Last spring some one jumped off the parking ramp and this fall, some kid just died. I knew him. He had heart problems." "ummmmm...actually", I said in a troubled voice, "I meant like pranks and stuff." Danielle shrugged her shoulders, "Oh, I dunno, drunk people do all sorts of crazy stuff." At the end of the tour Danielle pointed to a big ‚ white building, "That building looks like the white house from above. So, if anyone decides to drop a bomb on the white house, there is a chance it might drop on American instead." "That's good to know," I said, nodding approvingly at American’s contribution to the free world.

My next stop was George Washington, or GW. On my tour I learned two things. First, GW has the only bowling alley in DC besides the Whitehouse, and second, the courtyard of the GW law school looks like a bull’s eye. Rumor has it, during the cold war the Russians had missiles aimed at the courtyard. What is with DC schools and their obliteration complex?

It was also on my tour that I was faced with the dilemma that many touring students have. When do you warn your backwards-walking guide, of the many dangers in their path? Chances are they've done the tour guide thing before, so one would think they know what they are doing. But then again, one might feel guilty if their guide fell down a manhole. I pondered this quandary for a while, until I came upon a solution. I’d just let someone else speak up. That way, I wouldn't seem annoying and hopefully, I still have a guide to get me back to admissions.

Anyway, I made it back to admissions with a clear conscience, just in time for my interview. My interviewer, Joe, was a senior at GW and he was a nice guy. He kindly informed me that he was required to tell all prospective students that "if they wanted a campus that had grass growing on it, they were in the wrong place, because all GW has is concrete." Way to market the school Joe.

That evening we took the train to Philadelphia. A good family friend took us on a tour of the city. While walking about in a hip, uptown like area, I saw a store window with inflatable furniture in the window. I ventured in, with my mom right behind me. 30 seconds later, I realized we were in a sex shop. I quickly exited the store, and got my mom out before she noticed the nature of the store. Perhaps I was still a bit disturbed when I peered into a darkened Gap store window. I managed to miscalculate the distance between my head and the window, and ended up sprawled out in pain on the sidewalk. My mom, who didn't see the incident, rushed to my fallen body, thinking I’d been mugged. Thought after she found out the truth about my accident, she shook her head and decided it was time to return to our hotel.

The next morning, as we drove down the long driveway of Haverford College, I noticed there was lots of grass growing (unlike some places) and a duck pond on campus. I went on tour another, this time armed with my laisse faire approach to tour guide intervention. Once again I was enlightened by my tour guide. Haverford has a strong Quaker tradition and as a result has a strong honor code. There was one aspect of the honor code I found interesting. At Haverford, no one can ever be expelled. Sure, students can be suspended (or separated, as the Haverford folks like to call it) but never expelled. No matter what they do. For example, Chevy Chase, during his brief stint at Haverford is rumored to have led a cow to the roof of a dormitory, while another student lured a paddling of ducks (yes, that's what a group of ducks is called) from the pond, up to his friend’s room. Awaiting them was a loaf of bread soaked in alcohol. When the friend returned, he found a bunch of drunken ducks in his room. Nope, not even animal cruelty can get you kicked out of Haverford.

Before the MEA trip was over, We went to visit a few other schools, including one where I ended up listening to Muzak and sipping tea during my interview, and another that had sheep milling about on the campus. MEA wasn’t the end of my collegiate adventuring. In the piles of junk mail from the armed forces and several colleges of questionable legitimacy, I received two invitations to multicultural weekends. One from Bates College and one from Williams College. If I chose to attend, they would pay for me to fly out. Free trip? No school? I was there. Sometimes it pays to be oppressed.

My trip to Bates was pretty standard. Kinda. On the way from the airport, the driver Bates hired, to get the perspectives students to and from Bates decided to give me of background on Bates. In his words, "Bates is a great school, because you get to study a lot since the city of Lewiston is not some place you want to hang out in. But hey at least Bates doesn’t have white supremacists like Colby." I’m sure Bates appreciates the PR. Then at 7pm, the night before I was supposed to leave, my host dropped me off at a pre-frosh gathering. She went to her boyfriend’s dorm and never returned. Security had to let me in to her room, and I ended up almost missing my ride to the airport the next morning. Oh well, at least I got to ride there in a limo.

Onward to Williams. After checking in at the admissions office, I was sent off to my host’s dorm. When I finally, reached her dorm, she greeted me with, “Hi. Don’t touch the railings, don’t use the bathroom in my entry. Some people on my floor had a party last night. You don’t want to know any more than that. How are you?” After settling in and grabbing a bite to eat, I was informed that I would be attending a party that evening with my host and her boyfriend. Later that night, as my host and I headed across campus to her boyfriend’s dorm. Upon reaching the boyfriend’s room, I was greeted by a guy, a bit taller than me, sporting Khaki cargo pants, a white tee-shirt, penguin suspenders, and a scarf.

“Hi, I’m Matt. Welcome to Williams.” he said, while extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Brandi,” I replied, still a bit confused at Matt’s get-up. Apparently, my host was a bit confused too, because she looked at him strangely and said, “Matt, why are you dressed like that?” “Well, aren’t we going to the Canadian Party?” “Um, okay.” replied my host. “Okay then,” Matt said. Then he turned to me and asked, “So, Brandi, what do you think of my costume?” I had to be honest. “Ah, no offense Matt, but I think you look a bit like a displaced lumberjack.” Matt laughed, and we then headed downstairs.

But Before heading to the Canadian Party, we made a stop in the dorm’s lounge. While Matt chatted with some friends, I noticed two guys across the room bickering. A pudgy guy with a Yankees cap and a tall gangly fellow across the room. The were bickering about which coast was better.

“Dude, your coast has smog and illegal immigration.,” argued Yankees boy. “Man, the east coast sucks, you had slavery on your coast.” retorted gangly boy. Yankees boy decided to settle the matter by picking up a full beer can and whipping it at his nemesis’s head. Gangly boy proceeded to put Yankees boy in a head lock. “Say LA. Man, say it. Say it!!!” This commotion went on for quite some time when all of a sudden.... “Ah! My eye!”, I looked over to see Yankees boy clutching his face. He then got up, pointed at Gangly boy and shrieked, “Dude, I hate you and I hate LA. And another thing, stop using my computer for porn!” The entire room became silent, and Matt proclaimed, “I think now is a good time to leave.”

We went to the Canadian Party (although, I’m still not sure how a Canadian party differs from a regular party), and then returned to Matt’s room to watch a movie. His selection? Disney’s Robin Hood. So, there I was at 2am, on my college trip watching cartoons. Williams College had paid for me to fly out and watch cartoons. Cool. The rest of my trip wasn't as exciting. The next day I had an interview, where I explained my transcript as being fit for a game a scrabble. Fortunately, my interviewer found this humorous. She also excused me from a few mandatory meetings, because she said that since I go to Blake. I probably knew all of this stuff. Thank you Jr. College groups. I used that time to catch up on homework and rest.

So, I ended up applying to every school I visited, except the one with sheep, ‘cause that’s just not okay. I’ve come to accept that there is no escaping bizarro world. Because at high schools all across the nations there is produced being thrown, prisoners in lockers, and people plastered to pillars. And you know what? They are applying to college just like us.

Oh my stars, I cannot believe that I was remotely surprised by any of the weird shit I witnessed in college, considering all the insanity that I saw before I was even accepted into college. Good grief.