Redneck - Volume 12, Issue 4

“Big Country” Broman

A few months ago, I read a column, on these very pages, griping about public schools, cheerleaders, and things not really related to Milton. The main focus was something along the lines of Milton being “an island,” and how proudly P.C. we should be for not having a pep squad and things of that ilk. Coming from a small, fairly rural town, with an average class size of 55 students, and a very energetic cheerleading squad, I hope to dispel a few rumors about cheerleaders, public schools, and small towns.

I will concede that the stereotypical cheerleader is annoying. A high, whiny voice, backed by bubble-gum-wrapper intelligence, can indeed get on your nerves. But, as few many know, not every cheerleader can be described like that. That description is simply, well, a stereotype. Might I remind you that at a PC school like our dear Milton Academy, stereotypes are a no-no. Those who choose to try out for “pep squad” only do so because they are not faced with the burning question of Milton students: what activities should I do to get into college? In schools where cheerleading squads exist, the activity options are few. One can join the Future Nurses Club, or maybe the Key Club (Community Service on a smaller scale). As for their voices, they have no control over what they sound like, so give them a break. The issue of cheerleaders being dumb is sometimes true, but so what? One can find students in any school, in any organization, in any social climate, who are absolutely clueless. 

Public schools. The source of endless joy and little homework. What is so bad? How many migraines would you get if your responsibility was to watch at least three hours of television a night? None. I thought so. Most people who came from public schools will at first say it was a terrible time in their life. But if you prod them, and force them to recount all the times they played mailbox baseball and went cow-tipping, you’ll get them to admit that they loved those formative years. 

As one can imagine, substitute teachers provided the ultimate excitement for at least a week. During those classes, you and your friends, who almost always were in all of your classes, would do less work than usual, and actually were able to finalize your weekend plans. It’s not like you’d get yelled at for talking out of turn or just being excessively noisy. Hey, communication is always the key to a strong relationship. What better place to learn that lesson than high school. 

Relationships. Ahhh, that’s another topic only public school kids can savor. Back in junior high, a relationship consisted of phone conversations, a quick “hi” in the halls, and furious, drunken sex at the weekend party. Oh, what a life. Just watch out for hairspray in your mouth. 

Finally, the idea that draws all of these concepts together: small town life. No, not like Milton or Dedham, where one can find malls and highways and private (ooops, I mean “independent”) schools. But a town like my hometown: West Bridgewater, Massachusetts. Yes, despite rampant rumors to the contrary, it does exist, and no, I’m not the only way, I’ve found one parallel between Milton and my hometown: the rumor mill. Dinner and a movie becomes sweat, latex, and offspring, and pretty soon you’re the parent of four children. Funny how rumors get started. Anyway, small town folk aren’t much different than Milton students. Both wear flannels, boots, and drive four-wheel drive vehicles, and I’ve seen people spit on the sidewalk here. In both scenes, the teenagers complain about having nothing to do, getting caught when they do it, and not getting any p...lay. Come on, don’t deny it. I could go on and on. What I’m asking for is for some discretion in your criticism. Chances are, you don’t know the full story. People from small towns often appreciate the closeness, the accessibility, and the sense of being home, in a peaceful environment. We are not restricted to running in the cornfields and playing with farm animals; we venture into the big city to gaze at the movie stars. My parents are both products of small town, public school environments, as are my sisters and I. All our idiosyncrasies come from genetics and parental influence, not from genetics and parental influence, not from where we grew up. We don’t carry shotguns, chew tobacco, and wear caps with ear flaps--we are ordinary people, just with less neighbors and a little more lawn area. The education isn’t less--I was well prepared to come here, as were the other three West Bridgewater residents who’ve come here in the past 5-6 years, but it’s different. I know how to milk a cow, instead of how to go from Milton to the Chestnut Hill Mall. Differences aren’t a joke, especially when they don’t appear to be a big deal.