Globally Elite

“Where are you from?“: The question every TCK – or “third-culture kid”-  hates the most. Are you asking where I was born? Where I grew up? Where my parents live now? Where I live now? Where I’m ethnically from? Sometimes I’m tempted to retort: “I honestly have no idea.” Because when every one of those questions elicits a different answer, how can you really decide?

Home. It’s interesting – every person reads this same word and pictures a location unlike the person next to them. Whether it’s a physical house, a family member, or a town, what someone considers “home” is unique to his or her human experience. By the time I was 8 years old, I’d lived in 4 different places, in 2 different countries. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the school I entered in 3^rd grade became my home. A place where I could speak both languages I knew interchangeably, where I was surrounded by classmates who had also lived in several places and with teachers who understood that sometimes customs and cultures got muddled and mashed together. I discovered my identity as a “TCK”, by spending time with others who had some of the same struggles and perspectives as I did.

I was at “The American School in Japan,” in Tokyo; a private school with a great educational pedagogy and phenomenal teachers. Students came and went, typically every 3 years. There were a lot of children who’s parents were associated with the embassy, or who’s parents were the heads of the Japan branch of an international corporation. In that sense, I suppose it was elite. But in another sense, I feel like every student was humbled by a culture they didn’t know, and knew what it was like to feel like an outsider based on the experience they’d had moving to Tokyo. Our school was our home, and our friends were our family.

Honestly, the things I remember from my education at that school are not the ones from the classroom. They’re the field trips to the Atomic Bomb Memorial in Hiroshima, where all my classmates, Caucasian, South American, Asian, alike shared the same horrified look on our faces. They’re the Japanese culture days, where it didn’t matter “where you were from,” just that you wanted to participate and try something new. I took the usual classes like AP Chem and AP US History. The academics were great. But those experiences aren’t the ones that made me appreciate where I was. That isn’t why I think the education I received was stellar.

In my Junior year of high school, my life – educational and otherwise – changed pretty dramatically. My family moved back to San Francisco, California, where we’d lived for a while when I was really young. For my junior and senior year of high school, I attended a private institution that is considered one of the most elite in the East Bay. My transition from ASIJ to The Head Royce School is not one that I reflect on and call “easy.” I can’t even say I’d retrospectively do it again if I had the choice. I think the hardest realization was learning that the model of an open minded, culturally accepting classmate that I’d come to believe was standard, very much was not. The culture at ASIJ colored my perspective of schooling and multicultural peers, and because Head Royce could not provide the same level of authentic, cultural (as opposed to ethnic) diversity, I had a hard time fitting in.

The education that I received at Head Royce was binary – black and white, right and wrong. I learned study skills, time management, and hard work. Necessary, but not homey. My classmates were my competition, not my family. My teachers were there to teach and to discipline, not deviate from the curriculum.  That being said, I came to Colby feeling prepared by the academic rigor that my Junior and Senior year had provided. My graduating class only had 72 students, and I knew that I would thrive in a setting like this, where classes were small and teachers are engaging.

Despite having graduated from an “elite school,” I still feel out of place here sometimes. My elite school is 3,500 miles away from the ones that many of my fellow classmates at Colby have attended. It’s different than the cookie cutter New England boarding prep school that is considered “truly superior” here at Colby. Which begs the question: are all “elite” institutions the same? Are they all perceived the same way? I’d argue not, but what do I really know.

School, particularly in elementary, middle and high school, is where teenagers spend the majority of their waking hours. The atmosphere of the institution, the other students that attend, the teachers outlook and teaching style; all of these factors play into the overall experience. My educational experience thus far has undoubtedly shaped how I am, and changed how I look at the world, not to mention how I interact with those around me.

So that begs the question, where am I from? Despite the supposed elite academies I’ve attended, I still can’t quite figure it out. San Francisco is just where my parents are – where a physical house with my stuff in it is. Tokyo is where I grew up. I’ve lived longer now in Maine than I have in California. So when people ask, maybe I should just start saying “Colby.” Schools can become homes, right?

In studying elite schools and how they shape an individual, it is interesting and important to look back on my own educational experiences as they have made me who I am today. I went to Catholic school from K-12. I did not attend the same school for 13 years however, but went to elementary school from K-6th grade, junior high for 7th and 8th grade, and high school for 9th-12th grade. Even as a kid, I understood there was a degree of eliteness in going to these schools that my friends on my recreational basketball and softball teams did not have at the public schools in Nashua. I had a simple understanding of this at a young age though, being that the only difference was I wore a uniform and took religion classes.

Once I reached high school, I realized that there was an air of superiority that came with private schooling. When people asked where I went to school, I was hesitant to tell them because I didn’t want them to think I was wealthy and stuck-up. The truth is, my parents sacrificed a lot for me to go to a private high school to get a better education than the one I would have received at the public school in my city. We lived paycheck to paycheck but I experienced a weird dichotomy in that I wanted the rich kids at my high school to think I was like them, but didn’t want to be perceived as snotty to everyone else.

At Colby I have had a similar experience in trying to fit in with the upper-class crowd while simultaneously trying not to seem pretentious to the world outside of Colby. Before I got to college I was under the impression that I went to a preppy, affluent high school. But that was before I learned of the elite schools scattered throughout New England that so many of my classmates have graduated from. They went to exclusive boarding schools that boasted beautiful athletic facilities and high-level academia unparalleled to any other high schools in the country. Just a reminder, these are high schools…

They boast extremely high graduation rates and impressive college acceptances. They are known to be the best of the best, and for a price. The understanding I formerly had of private schools was based solely on my own Catholic school experience. I didn’t even know these schools existed because they were so far out of my league, financially. Colby’s student body is filled with graduates from these schools though and the preppy, affluent person I was so afraid to be has been out shadowed by them. I now find myself having to defend what I grew up thinking of as an elite education with the fear that people may view me as inferior within the Colby world.

Upon self-reflection I have found that the lens with which you look at schooling based on your own educational experiences shapes your opinions. For me, the prestige I once believed to possess I no longer feel belongs to me… and I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. I no longer feel the need to establish my middle-class status but do feel the need to assert myself as well-educated amongst my classmates who went to “better” high schools.

Regardless of relative eliteness regarding my secondary education, the fact that I attend Colby College automatically places me among the elites when I graduate. It is important for me to use this status as a way to help those in need and focus less on how others may perceive my assumed wealth, and more on what I can do to be perceived as a good person. One of my favorite quotes is “Go into the world and do good. But more importantly, go into the world and do good.”

As Adam has mentioned multiple times in class, the way an individual interprets the world is based on an accumulation of past experiences and cultural understandings. For that reason, I think it is important that we (as a class) understand where our classmates have come from as a way to understand why they may see the world differently. Specifically, we should understand the types of schools that each of us grew up in and celebrate the way in which we all bring unique perspectives to this project.

With that being said, hi! I’m Libby and I grew up in Bangor, Maine just an hour north of Colby. In Bangor, I attended a private school from kindergarten until eighth grade. All Saints Catholic School had many markings of an elite institution; my classmates and I wore uniforms and community service was extremely emphasized throughout every grade. However, because of its location and the demographic of the students, it never really felt like a truly “elite” school. Bangor, Maine isn’t exactly the fanciest town in New England and many of my classmates were there on a full-ride. The only difference between my school and William S. Cohen (the public school down the street) was that I wore a plaid skirt every day and had religion classes every morning. My parents didn’t send me there to avoid public schooling or to gain some sort of prestige, they simply wanted me to attend a Catholic school during my formative years to deepen my faith.

I went from an eighth grade class of 20 students to a freshman class of 300 at Bangor High School, the largest high school in the state of Maine. Though I had gone from a small private K-8 school to a much larger public school, I was still able to meet new friends, continue getting good grades, and participate in sports just like I had before. Bangor High School had incredible honors courses and exceptional extracurriculars. My principal was involved and all of my teachers were eager to help us succeed.

Despite the incredible quality of my public high school, I found myself defending it when I got to Colby.

“Oh you went to a public high school?”

“Yeah, but it was one of the good ones”.

Despite the fact that we all ended up at the same college, I have occasionally felt “lesser” because of the way in which public schools are often regarded, particularly at such an elite institution like Colby. Sure, there were some cultural disadvantages of attending a public high school- I hadn’t been away from home for longer than 2 weeks, I probably wasn’t as up to date on the preppy fashion trends, and the workload may have come as a little bit of a shock. However, the fact that we’ve all ended up at Colby College makes me question how necessary these elite high schools really are.

With all of this being said, I am extremely anxious to interview our students from Chile and get a closer look at these elite high schools. Having had little exposure to them, it will be interesting for me to be able to compare their experiences with my own and understand how they may be set up for success at an earlier age than those who attended schools like mine. Let the interviewing begin!