The fliers are plastered up the Mac hallways, through the dorms, and even in the academic buildings. “Vote for us for king and queen!” Each flier advertises a grinning couple, vying for the most attention. They try to win over passing students with appeals to group loyalty, corny slogans, or sim- ply their good looks. It is homecoming season.

Every year, a dozen charming guys and gals compete for votes to become the ONU Homecoming King or Queen. First, the court is nominated. Then they campaign and wait in nail-biting vexation for one week. Finally, the winners are announced during halftime of the homecoming football game.
In tears and fits of giggles, the king and queen are bestowed with sashes and sparkly crowns.

“…we don’t need popularity contests to tell us our value.”

What an amazing experience, they must think, to have everyone in my fraternity or sorority vote for me, not to mention that one chick who sat by me in that one class and probably thought I was pretty cool.

Then, the lovely king and queen hug and thank their organizations, voters and their mothers, and then they sit down.

Why the hullaballoo? For a tradition with so long a history, there must be a good reason for it.

Since we are in college, it must be for academic or career-related purposes. Because who doesn’t want to have “2014 Homecoming Queen” on their resume? It’s a credential employers would die to get their hands on.

That must be the case, because at Ohio Northern University, we don’t need popularity contests to tell us our value. We’re pretty smart cookies around here. Our worth is not based on the number of acquaintances we have or the amount of groups we join.

If certain student leaders do great things for our campus, they likely already know that. They don’t need a mass of superficial voters to tell them. They don’t need fliers or crowns or fanfare.

So, who insists upon this homecoming tradition, anyway? I didn’t vote for it.

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