RESPECT vs. POPULARITY [Sat, 9-28-24]

BEYOND WINTER: Irrelevant Memories of an Old Man—RESPECT vs. POPULARITY [Sat, 9-28-24]

 

Continuing the column of 9-26, about the slightly offbeat Gary, the one who nominated me for freshman class president, the one with the surprise daughter…

I hadn’t given elections for freshman class officers much thought, because we’d not had class officers before, and nobody had told us that such elections were coming up. First thing in home room that day, though, class sponsor Mr. Cato announced elections, starting with president. That was when the sort-of-outsider, Gary, made his surprise nomination of the ultimate outsider, the welfare boy.

In a way, though, it was not a surprise. Half of us were new to each other, two junior high classes put together as one high school class. [1] I was probably the only kid in the class who knew the name of every other kid. In fact, I knew the name of every other kid in the whole school.

I didn’t just know them. Every time I ran into someone in the hall, I’d greet them by name. Even the seniors, who were shocked that such a non-entity as “a little 8^th grader” would know their name. [Oakland City started highs school with 8^th grade, more, I suspect, for available space than from educational pedagogy.]

I didn’t think about being popular. That was way beyond me. I was a welfare kid who lived in the country. We didn’t have a car. I didn’t get to hang out with the town kids, go to movies or parties or the drug store. I had no money. I wore hand-me-downs, some from my sister! I didn’t even have a lunch box; I took my lunch in a paper sack.

No, popularity was beyond me, but I wanted desperately to be accepted, included. I figured the best way to get others to include me was to include them. That meant greeting them by name, even if no one else did. Not many people included Gary the way I did.

Fifty years later, my wife was talking to one of my classmates at a reunion. She mentioned that it had been very open-minded and big-hearted of them to elect me president all those years, considering that I was the poorest kid. “Oh,” she said. “We just respected him so much, we didn’t even know he was poor.”

It has taken me a long time to persuade myself to post this column. It sounds so much like bragging. I was elected! I knew everybody’s name! I included the left-out kids! I was respected! Sheesh! It’s too much!

I think, though, in this era of celebrity worship and extolling of people with money just because they have money, that it’s important to point out the difference between popularity and respect, and why they are different.

You get respect by giving respect. Learning and using someone’s name is the foundation for respect.

Seventy years after my freshman class elected me president, I took our granddaughter to her freshman class orientation night. Her classmates seemed to go out of their way to say “Hello” to her. “You’re really popular,” I said. “No,” she replied, “I’m not popular; I’m respected.”

I wasn’t surprised; she knew everybody’s name. She’s definitely her grandpa’s girl.

John Robert McFarland

1] The junior high wasn’t called junior high. It was called “The Departmental.” I’m not sure why, except that our teachers were part mental. At least by the end of the year.