We aRe Chapin. It hangs in our hallways, it’s posted outside, and announced at countless school functions and football games. It is Mr. Ross’s signature when he speaks over the intercom. It is our slogan, of sorts.

But who are we, really?

I know that makes me sound like some angsty teenager questioning her identity, but just give me a moment and I think you may understand what I mean.

We are expected to attend pep rallies and football games to support our school, but every year our school sends us a different message.

My freshman year the first pep rally was characterized by one specific thing for me: competition. The sophomores, juniors and seniors were chanting “Go home freshman!” and the grades competed against each other in skits and games. The homecoming king was the senior that raised the most money.

It didn’t make me feel unwelcome; it was just the upperclassmen letting us know we were the new kids and we couldn’t act like we owned the place. They were letting us know we needed to earn our place.

My sophomore year things really started to change. The majority of my classmates and I were crammed into our section of the bleachers and excited to be on the other side of the freshman chant.

This time, we belonged and it was our turn to defend our turf. Then, we were told we weren’t allowed to chant that. We were one school and yelling at the freshman wasn’t very representative of our unity.

Unity? The last I checked pep rallies were supposed to be a competition between the grades; we were all trying to be the best class at the best school. We were still supposed to compete for the spirit stick, but we were supposed to do it while being nice to each other? You know the other schools were going to be so nice when they beat our football team.

My junior year things just got worse. We were no longer allowed to have skits because some of the guys from last year’s graduating class dressed like girls and took it too far. Some teachers felt it was inappropriate, so it was taken. Pajama day was banned. The homecoming king was no longer determined by a competition to raise money because that wasn’t “fair.” At the first assembly on the very first day of school, Mr. Ross went on about how proud he was of our school and finished it up with “and here come the drug dogs!”

Competition between ourselves of any kind seemed to be frowned upon; we needed something to bring us together, so we chose to fight for renovations. We were allowed to be competitive about this because it was what the administration wanted. Then we won. It was great at first, but we had lost the cause that brought us together.

Students really didn’t feel like we were the school’s number one priority, and we became disinterested.

This brings us to senior year.  Mr. Ross is trying to bring some of the competition back. This year we were to compete for the Mace and the winner gets the right to cut in line. Regardless of who wins, this makes the seniors angry. That was one of our few remaining senior privileges. If we won, nothing would change for us. If underclassmen won, they would get the right to cut and the seniors would lose something that gave them pride.

We needed a new cause and so we found one: ‘Merica.  I’m not trying to mock our country; I personally am very proud to be an American. I just think it’s sad on the day of our pep rally, we’re wearing red, white, and blue instead of our school colors. When students paint up, they say, “God bless ‘Merica” instead of “Go Chapin!”

In my time at high school, we’ve lost the competition between grades, the homecoming king tradition, skits, pajama day, class parties and home baked goods, hallways and classrooms, and our unity. In trying to force us to be united the school has just forced us apart. Really- why should I go to a pep rally?

Give me the band, not just the drum-line. Give me the cheerleaders doing state champion  stunts, not just the Chapin cheer. Give me the games and contests. Give me a reason to cheer. Maybe, I’ll be more inclined to attend more than just the toga pep rally this year.