Thoughtful Reflection on Sweet Valley Med

The end of the (school) year always makes one nostalgic and reflective on "closing time" (you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here) at Sweet Valley Med: Toledo Edition. Although part of me wishes that the backrowballers (aka backrowbums) had drama, intrigue, and suspenseful twists and turns that rivaled an Aaron Spelling nighttime soap, in reality, Sweet Valley Med was a lot tamer with more blog rivalries and daily Borat impressions than catfights and hair pulling.

Now, this lack of soap opera-like drama could be attributed to the fact that the backrow was filled with lots of foreign/ethnic kids with two fairly conservative Muslims (of the non-fundamentalist variety) thrown in. And everyone knows that said foreign/Muslim kids are unable to manufacture drama in the traditional, exciting sense. After all, there's a reason why Beverly Hills, 90210 and Dawson's Creek were not ethnically diverse shows – stick an Asian kid into the mix and he'll just be studying hard as Mom and Dad look on (that wouldn't make exciting television).

Dear blog reader, you may be wondering then, why I refer to UTCOM as Sweet Valley Med. Although the backrow was unable to create drama in the traditional sense, there were still moments this year that could be plot lines in the poorly written, trash series, Sweet Valley High from my youth. Below I have cataloged "special moments where someone from the backrow learned a profound life lesson" and "a time filled with tension and anxiety amongst backrow individuals."

1. Accepting Friends for Who They Are: During "Separate but Equal Night," Farrah and I realized a sad fact about our backrowgangster friends – their tragic, alienating obsession with video games. That night could have torn us apart, as Farrah and I made a resolution to find new friends, who didn't stare at TV screens for four hours straight and ignore human company. Then, I realized my inherently anti-social nature and crippling inability to reach out and befriend people not in the backrow. And thus, crisis averted!
2. Compromise is Bad: One day, it snowed so hard in Toledo that school got out early. The backrow's foreign logic told them to not to go home to wait out the impending apocalyptic snowfall, but to go to lunch! Some wanted to go to Sam's Club/Toledo Market. Others were inclined towards Wing Station, a depot for horrific smells and unsanitary food. We settled on Ruby Tuesday's, but the damage was done. The act of compromise was too much to take, and after that, the backrow usually split up during lunchtime so no compromises regarding food would have to be made again.
   
3. A BackRowBaller Learns a Life Lesson #1: After a mean comment on the blog about my credit card usage, I got super upset and started to cry in a bathroom stall at Mulford. They hate me, they really hate me! The internal monologue in my head repeated over and over a la Sally Field's Oscar speech. After ten minutes, though, I got a grip and realized that twentysomethings cry and create drama over things like their boyfriends turning gay or their Chanel bag being stolen on the subway, not over an anonymous comment on a mere blog. That was when I realized that my histrionics were comparable to Susie writing something like "Shelly iz a slut" in the girls' bathroom in junior high.
   
4. A BackRowGangster Learns a Life Lesson: During the AMA elections, Ashot learned the hard the way that doing an entire speech in the voice of a 60 year-old foreign grandmother is not a good idea to win votes from fellow medical students who hate laughter.
   
5. The Rest of Medical School Class Learned a Life Lesson: The backrow would get fundamentally pissed off if someone took our seats in the morning. Despite many backrow people's pathological inability to get to school in time to claim their seats, we still got viscerally angry when someone would be there as a temporary place of refuge before they got back to their "real" seats with their "real" friends. After a political pamphlet was posted on the blog and Shlee's characteristic Persian rage, the rest of med school learned that the backrow doesn't think sharing is caring when it comes to seats.
   
6. A BackRowBaller Learns a Life Lesson #2: Sarah was hesitant towards Farrah, Abby, and I calling her "Sally." I think she believed she still had an identity or something, and she grew to love the idiosyncratic nickname I gave her (as an homage to Sally Lewis, my dear friend from Carlisle).
   

Ultimately though, the year was filled with learning and good, wholesome fun. Hopefully similar life lessons and dramas can be repeated next year (inshaAllah)!

xoxo

--By Mariam, who is like really obsessed with Clive Owen after watching Children of Men.