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So What's My Story?

After 3 years of being a poor social worker (the work I loved, the pay I didn't), I decided it was time to go back to school and get my Master's! After weighing my options (school far away from home, or school in a different country that is only an 8-hour drive from home) I decided to try my luck in British Columbia, Canada.

For a year I lived in
Surrey, BC while attending Simon Fraser University in Burnaby, BC. However, as the final component of my work toward my Masters degree in Criminology I have moved back to the states to complete an internship at an Independent Living Program for youth leaving the foster care system.

Here is the story of my adventures as a graduate student in a "foreign" country as well as my current work back in the states.

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Tuesday, January 20, 2009

"Plastic People"

Have you ever googled your name? I do it on occasion when I get bored or tired of reading academic journal articles... which was the case this evening.

There are a lot of "Brittney Boyer"s out there (and no google, I do NOT mean BrittANY! =P), and, after shuffling through those that weren't me (job profiles, half dressed women, 16-year old who think they've met their soul mates, and obituaries), I found something that surprised me... a new entry that WAS me.

Most of the stuff that comes up in a google search of your's truly are JEA and NSPA award listings from high school... but this was created last May. The Register Guard's columnist, Bob Welch, wrote a piece about a 20Below kid, Chad, 10 years after his tenure. Back in 1998 this kid wrote a column in which he was justifying dropping out of school by putting down everyone else around him... especially his peers who did well academically, he coined this "plastic people." My name came up with this because I wrote a letter to the editor response and Welsh included it with his recap of Chad's story (who recently graduated from college). Below is the original article by Chad and the letter that I wrote in response:

05/25/1998 Who needs high school? Not me

By CHAD ANDREWS, 20Below News Team The Register-Guard

ALL MY LIFE PEOPLE have been telling me about how important school is to my future. “Without a good education, you won’t go anywhere.” “You’ll never have a job if you drop out.” “You’ll never succeed without a diploma.” “School is the best thing for you,” they say. I beg to differ.

Most of my earliest memories are of when I first started kindergarten. I remember sitting there, among a bunch of strange kids, listening to the teacher - Mrs. Wikel, I believe - droning on in a cheerful voice about all the fun things we were going to be doing and learning now that we were in school.

Boy, was I pumped. I was one of the big kids now. I was in school, and I was going to learn how to tackle the world.

They sure fooled me. From the day the teacher started singing the ABCs, I knew I was in for a long torturous ordeal that would leave me drained of my mind, my soul and my dignity.

As I got older, I began to realize that I didn’t have to let them take me. I watched the people around me, the ones who always get those ridiculous little paper awards for their achievements that they wave around like little banners that proclaim, “Look at me! Look what I did! Look at what I am that you’re not!!” and I am always reminded of the little poodles in pink tutus that do back flips and walk upright for treats at the circus.

I always look into the scholars’ blank little eyes, and there’s always pride shining in them, and I think, “Woo. You got a paper. Way to go, genius, now go jump through the flaming hoop and see if you can get a fish.”

Even worse are those I deem “plastic people.” Those who have spent their whole lives being led around by Mommy’s apron strings. The people who are on scholastic honor roll and the ones who have never missed a day of school and are devastated by a B on their report card.

They disturb me because I see them sitting next to me in class looking up words like “derision” and “irony” and struggling to understand the definitions they find. I see them sitting there sounding out the words in “The Great Gatsby” and saying Versailles “Vuhr-say-leeze.”

These people get all kinds of “honors” heaped on them, because they are willing to toss their wills out the window and leap through hoops, because they are willing to kneel down and take whatever they must just so they can get their circus treats. I will not be made to kneel.

People tell me I am making a big mistake. My own brother calls me worthless. My mother says nothing, but I know her dreams are crushed. As much as I would like to be able to stand side by side with my peers, doing handstands and begging for scraps, I will not.

The vast majority of what I know, most of my skills, were not learned in school. I figured it out on my own. I know the teachers (most of them) are far smarter than I am, but one of my favorite things to do at school is play “Stump the Teacher” because, even though they know a lot more than me, I can find what they don’t know, hunt down their weaknesses and exploit them. I got nothing better to do.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe that education is important, but I can’t take the way they try to give it to me. I’m done. I’m going to ruin my life by throwing in the towel and quitting after this, my junior year.

I’m dropping out of high school because I just don’t belong there. I don’t even have a shot at graduating because I just can’t make myself sit there and do what I must to pass. Every time I try to do my homework, I can almost feel the little pink tutu growing around my waist, and I won’t stand for it.

Teachers do what they feel is right, and I respect them for it. If they want to interfere in other peoples lives, I’ll leave them to it. Just leave me out of it.

A wise man once told me a story. He told me about a young cocaine dealer he knew. He remembered asking the 15-year-old boy, “Where will you be in five years?” and the boy told him he would be rich, living on an island and waterskiing all day. The young man is now 27, in his fifth jail. No island. No waterskiing.

When he finished comparing me to a cocaine dealer, the wise man asked me, “Where will you be in five years?”

I had no answer for him. I still have no answer, but at that moment, something changed inside me. For a moment I wavered, my resolution thinned, and doubt crept into my mind. I could hear distant doors slamming shut on a distant me. The sound of crumbling dreams boomed silently in the air, and I thought, My god, he’s right! If I do this I’ll end up like his cocaine dealer, maybe not in jail, but, in my own personal prison, with all the exits barred, trapped without hope of egress until the day I die.

Then the moment passed. He was gone and I was alone. The fear washed away, and I was certain that I would make it. I may never be rich, but I will not allow myself to be held prisoner by my past.

I am a survivor, and I mean to survive. Even if dropping out of high school means scrapping my dreams of being a journalist, or possibly a novelist, it’s what I feel I have to do.

If I am condemning myself to doing grunt work for the rest of my life, so be it, but I will not be made to kneel.


Dear 20Below,

I started reading your article in the paper this morning (ÒWho needs high school? Not me") and I was thinking, “this kid may not have the same views as I do, but he knows what he wants.” And then I got to the fifth paragraph and from there the whole story went downhill. ...

“Those who have spent their whole lives being led around by Mommy’s apron strings. The people who are on scholastic honor roll and the ones who have never missed a day of school and are devastated by a B on their report card.”

I am one of the people you dubbed “plastic.”

I take pride in my grades and my achievements, though I don’t wave them around or jump through flaming hoops to receive more. School is something I can master. Something I can do well if I try. And that is exactly what I’m doing ... trying. You have made up your mind to stop trying to master school, and that is your decision. I’ve made up my mind to stay in school and try my darnedest. I’m not making fun of your plans ... so why make fun of mine?

Brittney Boyer,

Junction City High School

(A former 20Below columnist)


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