There I was, procrastinating on my homework as usual. Feeling immense boredom and not in the mood for a YouTube session, I thought of what to do. Perhaps I’d at least look over my calculus homework, just to get an idea of what was expected? I grudgingly hauled over my textbook from the other room and cracked it open.
I didn’t even make it to the first page. I wanted something different. Instead, I peered at the inside cover of the book that was now on my desk, where all the IHS kids from days long past write their name and claim that the condition of the book is “good” even when it is tattered, yellowed, and stained by coffee. The section you fill out in your books now and then, but ignore always. My eyes skimmed over the list of names: Willy from Mr. Bock’s class, Lucas from Mr. Drix’s class. These lines of penciled-in manuscript text were hogging the page and getting me curious. Who were these people, these now-alumni? I turned to my computer, launched Firefox, and set off on an adventure.
These names meant nothing without context. Fortunately for me, many working professionals seem to have profiles on Microsoft’s career-oriented social network, LinkedIn, so I figured it was a good place to start. Using my new tool, I ran a search for the names I found. Although I expected nothing to come up, or for there to be endless clones with the same name, I was able to judge fairly precisely who came from IHS. One give-away was the university and extracurricular activities the people engaged in. Many of those I saw in the book ended up going to Cornell—given our proximity to the campus and the connection we have, I assumed this made them more likely to be from IHS—and some even listed Ithaca High School on their digital resumes.
With my list of online profiles in hand, I decided to thoroughly comb over each person’s information, to get a better sense of who they actually were and what they ended up doing. I didn’t have any particular expectations going in, but I was surprised. The accomplishments and job positions I saw when digging through CVs were impressive: a partner at a law firm, a mathematics professor at Ohio State, and several who attended (or are currently attending) the most esteemed graduate programs in the nation. In addition, there were alumni leading projects at local institutions and software engineers working at tech giants like Facebook.
Was this experience transformative? No, not really. After all, that term is cliché and I can’t think of a single experience of mine that was, when considered in isolation, transformative. Was it intriguing? Definitely—not to mention I accomplished my original goal by finding a great way to burn time. Since countless names are scrawled across the inner cover of our school’s textbooks, I declare that this activity, which I shall name textbook crawling, is an excellent way to procrastinate.
Large public high schools trade school spirit for equitability. On one hand, students of different socioeconomic statuses are able to attend schools like IHS for free (ignoring the issues of taxes and school districts). Unfortunately, this is at the loss of small class sizes and a more personal experience—something that private schools and alternative schools excel at. My experiences are anecdotal, but I noticed that IHS seems to have fewer class trips and bond-building activities in the typical year than local alternatives such as LACS. Trips and celebrations are among the best ways to foster school spirit. They give students a chance to spend time together in a relaxed environment that isn’t a cooped-up classroom. At IHS, most of the events people look forward to (prom, casino night, senior trip, etc.) are clustered in the junior and senior years. Couple this with a COVID-19 outbreak raging across the globe that has canceled school and in-person activities, and it’s not too hard to understand why I don’t feel a strong attachment to IHS. There’ll be people (both teachers and students) I’ll miss, and experiences I’ll treasure, but most of them don’t explicitly have to do with our school. In short, I doubt I’ll be proudly proclaiming myself an Ithaca High School alumnus in the future.
However, textbook crawling has helped me think a little more positively about my high school experience. I found it a way of reconnecting with past students and formulating a sort of group identity, even though I had never seen in person the people I was looking up. I was impressed at how far our school’s alumni had gone, and all they had accomplished. Had I only been born a few years earlier, these people could have been in the same calculus classroom as me, learning about improper integrals and integration by parts. Though I’ve occasionally had my differences with Ithaca High School, I was proud of what these graduates were able to accomplish. The experience also made me reflect on the potential of my current peers. Those same kids goofing off in the lunchroom or half-asleep in science class now could very well be top engineers, scholars, and professors in the future. I’m now much more excited to see where my former classmates go, what they head off to do, and what they’ll achieve.
The activity also carried a slight sense of poignancy. I, too, will be graduating from IHS. Before long, I will lose the label of IHS student and gain the label of IHS alumnus. Leaving my high school friends behind, I’ll be heading east to Western Massachusetts to attend Amherst College this fall. It’s going to be tough leaving my friends and family, and a big change of pace transitioning from high school to college. I guess I have to move on to the next chapter.
I’ve long been a fan of textbooks. They’re tomes of concentrated knowledge that trim the fat and flowery language and get real. However, I used to think they lacked personal experiences and moral value. Through textbook crawling, I have realized that textbooks can actually change the way you view yourself and those you know well. So try it out! If you’re in the mood to kill time, please look at the inside cover of your textbook. Do it at least once, and search up the names you discover! And if you do, maybe you’ll find me.