Honor Societies

During a conversation with a colleague, the topic of the famed primary school "permanent record" came up. I remembered a time in sixth grade when I thought a poor grade on a math test would keep me out of college. I erroneously thought that the poor grade would keep me from enrolling in the honors math class in 7th grade, putting me on the fast track to flipping burgers. But enrollment at that age was determined by aptitude, not achievement. My permanent record was safe.

It did remind me of two other events related to school performance.

National Junior Honor Society

Our 8th grade had a chapter of the National Junior Honor Society.  While all of my friends were members, I wasn't. I had received a "D" in 7th grade Language Arts during one quarter and was deemed ineligible. Endless drilling of grammar and a still-forming pre-frontal cortex led to a refusal to complete my homework assignments. Hence the "D." As a consequence, I didn't get to go to on the big Washington, D.C. trips with my friends. High grades in other courses and a clear love of learning weren't enough. The irony? I now keep copies of multiple grammar guides on my desk and in my house and thumb through them just for fun!

I decided after this rejection to deal with boring courses by doing the useless work if the consequences outweigh the annoyance factor. That strategy has generalized to many other circumstances over the years.

Phi Beta Kappa

In college, I was again rejected by an honors society. I had always wanted to be a member of Phi Beta Kappa, ever since I was in a production of Bye Bye Birdie in summer camp at age 10. "Mr. Phi Beta Kappa Peterson, an English teacher's wife." I thought, since I was doing well in college, that I'd be inducted. Silly me. The first time I was eligible (my junior year), my grades were too low.  I needed to be in the top 2% of my class, when in fact I was in the 3rd percent. In my senior year, when the criteria for induction was top 5%, I was discounted because I had taken too many "ineligible" courses. See, I had taken between 20 and 24 credits a semester my entire college career.  A full load of academic courses plus independent studies, study abroad, music ensembles, and performance lessons. To qualify for induction, at least 75% of my courses had to be classroom instruction in the liberal arts. Phi Beta Kappa disqualified me for doing too much. I still remember asking the Phi Beta Kappa adviser, Alex Feingold, to reconsider. I pointed out that if I had done the bare minimum for my majors, I would have met the criteria and been inducted. Because I had done so much more, I had made myself ineligible. He acknowledged my logic but dismissed my request out of hand, and then said something to the effect of "maybe there is an honors society for you, but this isn't it." I don't know if he is still the Phi Beta Kappa adviser, but I lost a lot of respect for the organization then. Their representative had blindly adhered to an algorithm in the face of clear evidence of its inadequacy. Or perhaps he thought that if he bent the rules for me that he'd have to bend the rules for others on the "fringe" of eligibility. Either way, I was very disappointed. I graduated from Binghamton Summa Cum Laude with honors in two majors.  I was the only Summa graduate that year who was not a member of Phi Beta Kappa. I'm sure nobody else noticed.

I learned from that experience that doing more can have unintended negative consequences, but that this fact should never deter you from doing more. In the end, an honor society is meaningless. It is the work that you do that is meaningful.  Despite this realization, the recognition sure feels good and the rejection stings.

Closing

I'm thinking about these two events today because of an offhanded comment by a colleague. Whenever I do, I wind up working through the (il)logic of my disqualifications in the same way that I think about the my mortgage basis calculation or the mathematics of the democratic presidential nomination process. If I had had a blog then, I would have written about them in two angry, sarcastic, and poorly spelled rants. With a little distance, I am less angry and more reflective. And while I feel a little silly writing about things that happened 10 or 20 years ago, it is cathartic to lay the experiences out.