the monitors didn't pay any attention when we went to sites like InsaneClownPosse.com , Monty Python Online, or News Askew, filmmaker Kevin Smith's Web site. We'd get online and screw around all through study hall.
Sophomore year, though, they changed the policy on us. Now we had to have permission to be on certain sites, and we'd get in trouble if we were caught surfing one that wasn't “education-related.” Our Columbine school ID cards had three “lights” on them: red, yellow, and green. The first time the teachers caught you going to a non-educationalsite, they punched out the green light on your ID and called you a “yellow-lighter.” That meant you were “in trouble” and had a warning against you. If they caught you a second time, they punched the yellow light. That meant you weren't allowed to use the Internet for the rest of the year.
To enforce this policy, anyone using a computer in the school library had to put his or her ID card up on top of the computer monitor, so that the teachers on duty could see. That's not to say that you couldn't still go to “inappropriate” sites, though. I got away with it. You just had to be careful.
Computers were huge for us. Everyone is on the Internet now, but we were the kind of kids who were using it back when it was a “geek thing.” All of us loved to sit on a computer and do nothing else.
I'd been into computers since I was a little kid, when my dad bought a Commodore. Most people don't even remember it, but it was a small, simple computer that you could learn programming on. So as a kid, I would sit and learn syntax code. I read books on computer programming, then tried to do it myself. As newer computers came out, like the Apple IIE, I got experience on them, and then in fourth grade my parents bought our first IBM.
Computers were one of the things that bonded us in our freshman year of high school. Nick was really into graphic design and working on Macintoshes. Eric was a video game nut who talked sometimes about designing games for a living. All of us lived for playing Sega Genesis or Nintendo, and we loved computer games like Duke Nukem and Doom .
Most people looked at computers then as a “nerd” thing. We were proud to be nerds. We could relate to the logical simplicity of a computer. It made sense.
What we saw happening at Columbine didn't make sense.
It seems like once you get to high school, all of the social groups are decided within the first few weeks. Once they've solidified, the cruelty begins.
Sometimes kids would just ignore us. But often, we were targets. We were freshmen, and computer-geek freshmen at that. At lunchtime the jocks would kick our chairs, or push us down onto the table from behind. They would knock our food trays onto the floor, trip us, or throw food as we were walking by. When we sat down, they would pelt us with candy from another table. In the hallways, they would push kids into lockers and call them names while their friends stood by and laughed at the show. In gym class, they would beat kids up in the locker room because the teachers weren't around.
Seniors at Columbine would do things like pour baby oil on the floor, then literally “go bowling” with freshmen; they would throw the kid across the floor, and since he couldn't stop, he'd crash right into other kids while the jocks pointed and giggled. The administration finally put a stop to it after a freshman girl slipped and broke her arm.
One guy, a wrestler who everyone knew to avoid, liked to make kids get down on the ground and push pennies along the floor with their noses. This would happen during school hours, as kids were passing from one class to another. Teachers would see it and look the other way. “Boys will be boys,” they'd say, and laugh.
The problem was that the bullies were popular with the administration. Meanwhile, we were the “trouble kids,” because we didn't seem to fit in with the grand order of things. Kids who played football
Sophomore year, though, they changed the policy on us. Now we had to have permission to be on certain sites, and we'd get in trouble if we were caught surfing one that wasn't “education-related.” Our Columbine school ID cards had three “lights” on them: red, yellow, and green. The first time the teachers caught you going to a non-educationalsite, they punched out the green light on your ID and called you a “yellow-lighter.” That meant you were “in trouble” and had a warning against you. If they caught you a second time, they punched the yellow light. That meant you weren't allowed to use the Internet for the rest of the year.
To enforce this policy, anyone using a computer in the school library had to put his or her ID card up on top of the computer monitor, so that the teachers on duty could see. That's not to say that you couldn't still go to “inappropriate” sites, though. I got away with it. You just had to be careful.
Computers were huge for us. Everyone is on the Internet now, but we were the kind of kids who were using it back when it was a “geek thing.” All of us loved to sit on a computer and do nothing else.
I'd been into computers since I was a little kid, when my dad bought a Commodore. Most people don't even remember it, but it was a small, simple computer that you could learn programming on. So as a kid, I would sit and learn syntax code. I read books on computer programming, then tried to do it myself. As newer computers came out, like the Apple IIE, I got experience on them, and then in fourth grade my parents bought our first IBM.
Computers were one of the things that bonded us in our freshman year of high school. Nick was really into graphic design and working on Macintoshes. Eric was a video game nut who talked sometimes about designing games for a living. All of us lived for playing Sega Genesis or Nintendo, and we loved computer games like Duke Nukem and Doom .
Most people looked at computers then as a “nerd” thing. We were proud to be nerds. We could relate to the logical simplicity of a computer. It made sense.
What we saw happening at Columbine didn't make sense.
It seems like once you get to high school, all of the social groups are decided within the first few weeks. Once they've solidified, the cruelty begins.
Sometimes kids would just ignore us. But often, we were targets. We were freshmen, and computer-geek freshmen at that. At lunchtime the jocks would kick our chairs, or push us down onto the table from behind. They would knock our food trays onto the floor, trip us, or throw food as we were walking by. When we sat down, they would pelt us with candy from another table. In the hallways, they would push kids into lockers and call them names while their friends stood by and laughed at the show. In gym class, they would beat kids up in the locker room because the teachers weren't around.
Seniors at Columbine would do things like pour baby oil on the floor, then literally “go bowling” with freshmen; they would throw the kid across the floor, and since he couldn't stop, he'd crash right into other kids while the jocks pointed and giggled. The administration finally put a stop to it after a freshman girl slipped and broke her arm.
One guy, a wrestler who everyone knew to avoid, liked to make kids get down on the ground and push pennies along the floor with their noses. This would happen during school hours, as kids were passing from one class to another. Teachers would see it and look the other way. “Boys will be boys,” they'd say, and laugh.
The problem was that the bullies were popular with the administration. Meanwhile, we were the “trouble kids,” because we didn't seem to fit in with the grand order of things. Kids who played football
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