Homeroom
Frisbee
By Paul
Ramirez
Magis staff writer
Metaphysical
tumbleweed slowly rolled across my path as I walked toward
the Intramural Frisbee fields. It was the dusty brown kind
that never stops rolling until it hits a chain link fence.
Suddenly, freshmen stopped to stare. The sun continued to
stare. Mr. Arguello, with a smug grin, had proudly connected
his left index finger to his thumb and crossed his hands across
his chest: 305.
For the unfamiliar, Mr. Arguello’s junior Homeroom 305
(pronounced three-oh-five, not three hundred and five) is
the self-proclaimed “best, brightest, holiest, and most
athletic” homeroom at Jesuit. Having dominated the canned
food drive, their newest pursuit is for the title of Intramural
Sports Champions. Students in the homeroom have an immense
sense of pride and will often use any opportunity to show
off the 305 hand sign.
Continuing to walk across the field, I embraced the warm nostalgia
of my old 305 days. As a freshman, I grew up in room 305.
Although I’ve sat in many desks throughout my career
at Jesuit, I can still recall which desk I sat in during homeroom
on that first day of school. Even after I transferred to the
journalism homeroom (302), I still maintained a sense of loyalty
and proudly displayed the 305 sign from time to time. Ignorant
and happy, I lived in a state of harmonic flux between the
two homerooms, until an unassuming game of frisbee forced
the issue to a crisis.
By chance, I checked the Ultimate Frisbee pairings that morning
and saw “Kornegay/Volding vs. Arguello.” The imlications
flew furiously in my mind, and I barely managed to catch myself.
Magis/SJET vs. 305. New vs. Old. Home vs. Home. Tossing novelty
flying disks suddenly became a moral dilemma, and no Christian
perspective had a way of telling me what I should do. The
smallest flick of my wrist would become a choice that I had
never been forced to make before, and I was as nervous as
the eight-year-old who has won a trip to Disney World, but
can only choose one of his parents to go with him. He doesn’t
want to pick between them, but he really wants to give Mickey
a high five.
Likewise, fueled by my love of all things spinning, I decided
to play for Magis/SJET while leaving all moral considerations
for later. On the field, the opposing team greeted us with
familiar but cold eyes. Of all sports, I believe that Ultimate
Frisbee is the most ferocious. Something about the frisbee’s
transitory, hovering, UFO nature alienates teams from one
another. I longingly searched the faces of my former homeroom-mates
for a hint of the camaraderie that I had once known, but they
stared back with indifferent animal eyes. We were just another
team. Despite our history, I was just another opponent. Mr.
Arguello’s yelling on the sidelines (he being one of
the few, if not the only homeroom teacher who shows up to
the games) reminded me of his incessant droning over canned
goods, but even nostalgia couldn’t disguise the fact
that he was yelling for his team and against mine.
When the administration decided to arrange the intramural
sports based on homeroom, they created many benefits like
letting students better know people in their homeroom by allowing
them to share the same triumphs and losses. It creates a system
where we develop a sense of home in our homerooms rather than
it merely being a place to listen to announcements. But left
unchecked, this system threatens the very social cohesion
of our school. I am very much in favor of a sense of homeroom
pride, but we must not let it extend to the point of animosity
and fractionalization. This may seem an exaggeration, but
nowhere can this be seen clearer than in the fragile Magis/SJET
homerooms, where ties to previous homerooms have already begun
to be severed.
That sunny afternoon, Magis/SJET ended up losing to Mr. Arguello’s
homeroom 5 to 8. But much more is at stake here than simple
intramural games. If we don’t develop intramural homeroom
pride in the spirit of friendship and goodwill, we risk destroying
our sense of community here at Jesuit. As for myself, I think
that there’s still a flickering connection and the hope
of a better future with my old three-oh-five. Unless all of
our homerooms can stand together while at the same time competing
with one another, to quote Alien vs. Predator, “Whoever
wins… we lose.”
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