Spirit

When I first arrived at Sunnydale High I think the principal, Mr. Flutie, was nonplussed. We had a rather strained first interview.

“Mr. Giles,” he said, “Mr. Giles, Rupert, if I may. I’m not quite sure what you’re doing here.”

“Well, I’m to be the librarian. I believe that’s the position for which I was hired. Is there some problem?” I answered.

“The problem is, the essence of the thing is, the thing is, we’ve never had a librarian. Not full time. Now, suddenly, there’s a mysterious grant. A sudden infusion of money for a great many more books and we have you, a librarian. A lot of odd things happen in this town,” and here Mr. Flutie stared intently at me, “but not many of them...ummm...beneficial.”

“Really?” I said, “How interesting.”

“But I’m not one to look a gift horse, etc., if you get what I mean. I welcome you. Anything that makes the school a better place for the kids. We’re all, all about expanding opportunities. Broadening horizons.” And here he looked at me in what I thought was a speculative way. “There are a few things...”

“Yes?” Cautiously. It was obvious to me that this man, pleasant as he seemed to be, was not a confidante of the Watchers’ Council.

“Well, the last librarian, she had very little to do. So she helped out here and there. Helping the children cultivate a sense of belonging, here, in this, what can be this, overwhelming experience. You know, a community-building enhancement...”

I must have looked totally uncomprehending at this point.

He said, “She coached the Spirit Squad.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Spirit Squad. It a group of kids who get together and practice, that is learn cheers. Then they show up at all the team games, do cheers, keep the enthusiasm up. They, the Spirit Squad, wear uniforms. These are really hard-working kids. So, do you think this is something you’d be interested in? Coaching?”

“I...I,” I must admit I stammered somewhat here, “I’ve no doubt that I have no talent or interest in that direction.” He looked so crestfallen that I tried to lighten my refusal. “The chess club, perhaps. I could lend some help there, a mentor if you will, if you need it.”

He looked startled and began rifling through some sheets of paper. “Yes, yes, we do have one,” he read from one of the papers. “It says here they even compete in tourneys with other schools. Huh!”

“Not accompanied by the Spirit Squad?” I tried to keep my voice noncommittal.

“No, afraid not. The tourneys really don’t draw much a crowd to get stirred up.” He looked at me as if he thought I would now withdraw my offer of help.

“Still,” I said, “if it would be of benefit to the school, I’d be glad to be an advisor.”

“Excellent, excellent. I think you’re going to fit in here just fine. All those books, and now the chess. Excellent.” Mr. Flutie rose and I did, too. We exchanged a hearty handshake. “Welcome aboard!” he said.

I tell this story because it was my first encounter with the phenomenon of American ‘school spirit’. If I had thought of it before (and I don’t think I had) I imagine I would have supposed that the term meant ‘cheerleaders’, those staples of American cinema, both legitimate and of the bluer variety.

But it was really so much more. It seemed to me, an inhabitant from a less expressive background, that to be part of this encompassing mood-altering machinery, the Spirit Squad, was as important here as any actual gaining of knowledge was in this school. Rallies were held almost every day in the quad. The squad members walked as gods among the populace of the school. I was quite overwhelmed.

When my Slayer insisted on joining this band of merrymakers, I accused her of wanting join a cult. Perhaps I was overreacting. If I did, I apologize. But I was a stranger in a strange land. It was frightening.

You have no idea.