The Typical NS Student

At a party last Saturday, a stranger approached me with an intriguing sentiment. Instead of clearing up the age-old existential question, "Who am I?" she launched me into an identity crisis more complicated than I thought possible.

When she sauntered up to me, grinned, and stated contemptuously, “If I had to picture a New School student, it would definitely be you”, I was presented with an idea I'd never considered before. I am so deeply immersed in New School culture that I don't even notice when I exude it. We had never spoken before; it was the first time I had ever seen her. How could she tell?

I know plenty of stereotypical New School students, from the couture-clad beauty with her drawing pad strapped to her back in its bulky black case to the radical kids taping New School in Exile posters to the Lang Cafe walls. I can hardly claim to define them. I'm just one piece of an infinitely colorful, complex puzzle.

I couldn't be happier at The New School, but I hope the next time an outsider pictures a New School student, he or she doesn't see me. Instead, picture this: a thousand contrasting faces, walking, talking, and dressing as independent individuals. It’s our rejection of the conventional assumptions defining college students today—a refusal to participate in a 500-person lecture class, or to engage in the cutthroat competition among peers so prevalent at bigger colleges—that makes us stand out.

The stranger's presumption was unwarranted, but it guided me to an attractive conclusion: I am unique in a city famous for making its inhabitants anonymous. And I absolutely love that. If that girl meant to embarrass me for being different, she did the opposite. I couldn't be more proud.