Carlsbad has lost its laurels

Megan Foy, Editor In Chief

She’s listing how well-mannered, sweet and considerate she is. She’ll even send a thank you note after dinner and promises that she’ll contribute to the meal with fresh-baked dessert. No, she’s not begging for an invitation to a debutante dinner; you’re overhearing a girl explain to her neighbors why she should be voted “the best person to bring home to your parents.” Truth be told, she’s projecting her voice for the whole class to hear.

Lancer Laurels have taken on a whole new shape: a competitive, campaigning crusade.

Let’s define nominating– it’s when an individual votes based on his personal opinion. Campaigning is self-promotion, getting the idea or name out there to sway voters. The difference between the two is that one has no outside influence whereas the other does. Nominating awards such as Lancer Laurels should not involve promotion efforts.

Campaigning has its time and place, but it is not for superficial superlatives. Perhaps you could rationalize that if someone asks for suggestions for “best hair,” then you can offer your name. Humbly suggesting you are the best hair candidate they’ve been searching for. Yet for something as trivial as hair, to suggest that you indeed do have the most luscious locks is vain.

Plus, if effort and persistent campaigning energy is needed in order to get the vote, then the award does not hold the same value: it’s no longer a compliment. If the senior class collectively and unaffectedly chooses you as the person with the best personality, the honor is flattering and worthwhile for being remembered in the yearbook. When you have to put the idea into someone else’s head that you should be deemed “most likely to succeed,” yearbook should change your award to “most likely to be in politics.”

Also, put Lancer Laurels into perspective: no one will care next year whether or not you are “best dressed.” At college, you may be the one of many people who was crowned a fashionista. Moreover, students should not invest too much energy into the whims of their peer’s opinions. Perhaps you are not the very best eyes on campus. That’s fine. Your self-confidence shouldn’t shatter, not even a hair-line fracture should show.

Lancer Laurels aren’t to blame for the puffery passing through. In fifty years, it will be worthwhile to look back and recall that girl who always made you smile and had the “best personality.” Yet, if you flip back to the Lancer Laurels and you remember when someone sent out a mass text begging and pleading to be nominated for “beach bound,” the warm, fuzzy nostalgic feelings will quickly fade and you’ll remember the immaturity present in high school. So let’s keep the integrity of the Laurels: keep the politics where they belong.