On Feb. 9, I wore a skirt instead of a skort for the first time since sophomore year, and it was claimed to be Surprise Day. Anytime I happen to pull my tennis shoes out of the closet and sport them as my daily kicks at school, it is Surprise Day. One day, I packed leftover lasagna for lunch, and I’m still confused on how this one relates, but people also speculated that day was Surprise Day
Hi, my name is Ally Kmiecik, and I am a Surprise Day survivor. I have been in on the surprise day secrets now for four years, and by that I mean I’ve been a member of Student Board. Every year, I dread coming back from Christmas break only because I know of the harassment that comes along with my choice to sport my red sweatshirt in the halls every Monday. The other day I responded to the question with what seemed to be an overly-excessive eye roll only to get the remark of, “You should know that your job description basically says, ‘works well with harassment and verbal abuse when it comes to Surprise Day.’” Harsh? Maybe. Accurate? Most likely.
My first Surprise Day was a whirl of confusion when a snow day occurred on the planned date. Fellow freshman Student Board member Claire Davis and I texted each other frantically over what in the world we should to do. Sophomore year, I finally was used to the constant questions, and a man ate fire during the opening show. Junior year Surprise Day was the single most tiring day of my life, complete with Dance Team practices and a performance, a two block long junior seminar, and working the Speech meet at Marian the whole night. Each year has gotten more detailed and rigorous when it comes to planning, but I have not regretted a single moment.
Being a senior now, I have learned the ropes of how to deal with the constant demands of my friends, family, and even teachers who ask me when the glorified date is. “Teachers?” you ask. Oh man, if you think you and your pals have a detailed dissection of the exact hour of the announcement, you have no idea what the teachers are up to. Their antics range from making suspicious eye contact with me every time they schedule a test and announce it to the class, to straight up claiming that they were told when it is so it is perfectly okay that I spilled the date. Nice try teach, but this isn’t my first cotton candy shift.
One of the things I find the most comical is people’s confidence in their assumptions. When students approach me, I don’t get asked. Oh no, I get told. “Surprise Day IS on Friday.” Okay, kids, if you say so. I honestly think it is a mind game for the student body. They think if they inform me enough times about a certain day then it will just magically become that day. I’ve adopted new positive mindset catchphrases I like to throw out when people pout about it not being that day: “We accept the Surprise Days we think we deserve,” and, “Every day is Surprise Day if you truly believe” are two of my personal favorites. I truly think it is my duty to spread that positive vibe to the student body. As someone whose knowledge of this date aggravates them most of the time, it is the least I can do.
I’ve never been on the opposite side of the event, so I have never gotten to understand the hype behind trying to figure out the date, but I do know that girls will give out any excuse to get me to spill. I’ve gotten girls texting me begging to tell them if they should come to school because they feel sick but don’t want to miss Surprise Day. Please stay home; bouncy houses and cotton candy are not for the ill. I’ve had girls who inform me of their vacation plans months in advance to confirm they won’t be missing anything. Trust me, the cruise you’re going on beats getting your face painted in the Quad.
Despite all of the heckling I have gotten over the years, I adore my Surprise Day, secret-keeping responsibilities. Although at times girls test my patience, there is no better satisfaction than the shock on everyone’s faces that later morph into sugar rushed smiles. I know you all love to concoct theories and shower me with questions in the halls, but ignorance is bliss, for you all, anyway.