We are a tribal species. Our daily closest contacts spread out from our families to the streets around our houses, to the cities and towns we live in.
From there, as our children go to school, we build allegiances with the high school, perhaps even a local college, attending and supporting events. If your city is big enough, you may have a major league sports team, and many of us get rabid about how they perform.
When we support a team, organization or community, our feelings get reflected in specific ways. The first step is often buying apparel.
Look around you. If you live in Green Bay, WI, are you seeing people walking around with Dallas Cowboys jackets or Nebraska Cornhusker hats? I think not.
No, you’re seeing cheeseheads. You see a lot of green and gold. Jackets, golf shirts, tee shirts, hats, bumper stickers and bobbleheads of the Packers are all over the place. This scene plays out all across the world.
We identify through proximity. We route for the team, wear their colors and sometimes even feel good or bad depending on how the team does.
What’s intriguing about this process is evolving with your kids as they move through their stages of life, from middle school to high school to college (if they go that route). A similar syndrome of affiliation takes place.
At each stage, you adopt an identity of aligning yourself with the school and its activities. It may start with robotics in middle school. You buy a tee shirt to go with your child to the local or regional competition to see how your team of young scientists stacks up against others in the area.
Though there aren’t any stands set up to cheer, you still find yourself anxious, hoping your middle school wins, because you have blood in the event. So you think good thoughts about everyone and hope they get to keep moving on to higher level competition.
In high school, the push to get you to buy clothing to identify with kids’ school intensifies. The purchases support causes (trips, teams, clubs) financially, and give you an added identity as a supporter. The jacket, tee shirt, hat, blanket, chair or any other visible item is way to “show” school spirit. You believe in the school (and what your kid is doing), so you join the movement.
This continues through their four year evolution. Freshman year, you may start with band and attend all those events, throwing pot luck parties for the trip to see if the tuba players stack up at the marching competition, and then sophomore year you get, “Eh, I’m quitting band.” Poof went that investment (time and financial).
This continues through sophomore, junior and senior years, as some things are dropped and others added. Someone wants you to buy a “cheer” shirt for one special game. You’re asked to donate for silent auctions. Monogrammed shirts are offered. Special parking spaces become available if you give enough money.
Then if they’re off to college, you do it again, hitting the campus bookstore, perusing the clothing, deciding whether to get a bumper sticker to advertise your allegiance. It’s a strange syndrome because once your kids leave their school, whether it’s going from 8th grade to 9th or from 12th grade into college, you are done with all those purchases that identified you as a visible supporter.
After college, you can get back to being just you. Your closet is probably full of stuff that slowly loses meaning. So when Goodwill or the Salvation Army calls, you can finally say, “I’m unaligned,” and start to figure out who you are again.
From there, as our children go to school, we build allegiances with the high school, perhaps even a local college, attending and supporting events. If your city is big enough, you may have a major league sports team, and many of us get rabid about how they perform.
When we support a team, organization or community, our feelings get reflected in specific ways. The first step is often buying apparel.
Look around you. If you live in Green Bay, WI, are you seeing people walking around with Dallas Cowboys jackets or Nebraska Cornhusker hats? I think not.
No, you’re seeing cheeseheads. You see a lot of green and gold. Jackets, golf shirts, tee shirts, hats, bumper stickers and bobbleheads of the Packers are all over the place. This scene plays out all across the world.
We identify through proximity. We route for the team, wear their colors and sometimes even feel good or bad depending on how the team does.
What’s intriguing about this process is evolving with your kids as they move through their stages of life, from middle school to high school to college (if they go that route). A similar syndrome of affiliation takes place.
At each stage, you adopt an identity of aligning yourself with the school and its activities. It may start with robotics in middle school. You buy a tee shirt to go with your child to the local or regional competition to see how your team of young scientists stacks up against others in the area.
Though there aren’t any stands set up to cheer, you still find yourself anxious, hoping your middle school wins, because you have blood in the event. So you think good thoughts about everyone and hope they get to keep moving on to higher level competition.
In high school, the push to get you to buy clothing to identify with kids’ school intensifies. The purchases support causes (trips, teams, clubs) financially, and give you an added identity as a supporter. The jacket, tee shirt, hat, blanket, chair or any other visible item is way to “show” school spirit. You believe in the school (and what your kid is doing), so you join the movement.
This continues through their four year evolution. Freshman year, you may start with band and attend all those events, throwing pot luck parties for the trip to see if the tuba players stack up at the marching competition, and then sophomore year you get, “Eh, I’m quitting band.” Poof went that investment (time and financial).
This continues through sophomore, junior and senior years, as some things are dropped and others added. Someone wants you to buy a “cheer” shirt for one special game. You’re asked to donate for silent auctions. Monogrammed shirts are offered. Special parking spaces become available if you give enough money.
Then if they’re off to college, you do it again, hitting the campus bookstore, perusing the clothing, deciding whether to get a bumper sticker to advertise your allegiance. It’s a strange syndrome because once your kids leave their school, whether it’s going from 8th grade to 9th or from 12th grade into college, you are done with all those purchases that identified you as a visible supporter.
After college, you can get back to being just you. Your closet is probably full of stuff that slowly loses meaning. So when Goodwill or the Salvation Army calls, you can finally say, “I’m unaligned,” and start to figure out who you are again.