I seriously need to clear up some things about my feelings on Punahou.

First, I do hate Punahou.

However, I don’t hate people who went to Punahou. What I hate is the depth to which the elitism of the institution has insinuated itself into . . . everything . . . in Honolulu. It’s nauseating that the name of your high school remains such a core identifier of your ego for, as far as I can tell, your entire life. It’s particularly nauseating to somebody who didn’t grow up here and is now trying to make Hawaii his home when he learns that it really does matter. Pretty much to everybody.

The frustrating thing about trying to explain this, particularly to Punahou grads, is that you can’t see it because you’re living in it. I don’t know how much time El Jeffe has spent in Hawaii, so maybe he can relate, maybe not. Maybe TJFKAK can understand this too, having been raised in Chicago. The high-school-centric culture is, at first, sort of strange and entertaining. However, it becomes insidious when, as somebody from the mainland, it becomes a constant reminder that you not local. It’s worse when it’s used, as it frequently is, either purposely or unconsciously, as a means of exclusion. Sometimes this is just annoying little things that grate at you over time, sometimes it means, like, you don’t get a job.

I know the response, at this point, is that I’m somehow bitter and/or jealous. Well, yes. But not because I didn’t go to Punahou.

I went to law school at UH. My class had 106 students. Thirty of us were out-of-state students from the mainland (or elsewhere). I believe about thirty-three of my classmates were Punahou grads. So to put this in perspective - HALF the local residents in my law school class went to the same high school.

Now the automatic response is “Well, Punahou is such an awesome school and has such talented students and alums, that’s why so many were accepted to law school.”

No.

The Punahou students ran the gamut from the top of the class to the lowest in the class rankings. So naturally, this would sort out any high school bias once the firms started hiring for internships and jobs after graduation, right?

Nope.

Of my fellow mainland classmates, no more than five of us are still living in Hawaii. There were a variety of reasons why people chose to move, but an unfortunate number of them moved because they couldn’t get jobs out here. Smart, accomplished, and experienced lawyers who just couldn’t get hired.

You all know what the first question is when you go to a job interview.

Now try to imagine being from the mainland where the question is “Why did you come to Hawaii?”

This bitterness isn’t for myself. I never even went to a law firm interview. I never even applied. I was too busy pursuing other career avenues with the Federal government. And HPD certainly wouldn’t have viewed Punahou as a positive credential. That’s a whole different kind of local over there. However, I am pissed because my best friends all moved away and refuse to come back because of the experiences they had here. These are people who are WAY more tolerant and likeable and competent than myself. All of them were better lawyers too.

I’ve now been to the police academy. There was one private school grad in my class. I liked those guys so much more and was accepted so much faster with them than I ever was in law school. This isn’t a Hawaii problem. This is a problem with the Hawaii elites. This attitude is a problem with the people who have the kind of status and money where they can go to law school. And, as mentioned above, a full half of those people apparently went to Punahou.

So it’s not at all that I was taunted by some girls during lunch. The experience was that I ate lunch with three of y’all’s classmates every day. I liked them. I like them now. They’re my friends. However, at the age of 25, training to be professionals of the highest caliber, do you know what they talked about, literally, without any exaggeration, every single day?

Punahou.

They talked about high school. They talked about people from high school that the rest of us don’t know. They talked about who sat at what benches, or whatever, during high school. They talked about the joys of being a peer counselor. I learned all about the breakdown of labor based on what grade you’re in during “Carnival.” Christ, I even know what the budget was for the 1999 Senior Prom and Graduation ($1.3 million, you spoiled brats). I know more about Punahou now then I do about my own high school. Why do I know this? Because what does somebody from the mainland do when you’re having a few pitchers of beer at Magoo’s (god rest his blind little soul) with a bunch of Punahou grads? You sit there with your mouth shut and listen to people talk about Punahou.

This isn’t a phenomenon that’s limited to Punahou. It’s sort of representative of the general “look how local I am” game that’s the top passtime in Hawaii. My particular hatred comes because of the particular way I was introduced to this aspect of local culture; through law school, lawyers, and Punahou grads.

I imagine the response to this is that I’m overreacting or over-sensitive. But I assure you, it looks way worse from the outside then you guys seem to realize. As somebody who’s job now, in large part, involves investigating fraud and other corporate intrigues in Honolulu, I can assure you that Punahou’s celebration of cronyism extends way beyond grad school.

If you want to do a little experiment, a little self-test, think about how you introduce your friends to people. Are they your “friend from high school” or are they your “Punahou friend.” Now contemplate on the varying shades of meaning and implications in the difference between those two statements and maybe you can see the absurdity in the whole thing.

Sorry this post wasn’t funnier.

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