At Plant High School in Tampa, students kicked off homecoming week with themed dress-up days, pep rallies and a football game — all in the name of school pride. Every year, these events are promoted as a way to boost morale, strengthen unity and celebrate tradition. But as students filled the hallways with colorful costumes and cheers, some couldn’t help but ask: Why do we keep doing this? Does it really make school life better, or are we just keeping a routine alive because it’s always been that way?
High schools across the country have hosted spirit weeks and pep rallies for decades. The idea is that shared experiences foster community and loyalty, providing students with something to rally around beyond academics. But that sense of forced enthusiasm doesn’t sit well with everyone. For many, school spirit feels more like a performance than genuine pride.
Questioning School Loyalty
What I don’t understand is why we, as students, are expected to show loyalty toward the school, as if it had raised us or given us something deeply personal. I’m not saying I dislike Plant, it’s a good school, but I don’t feel the need to treat it like a sports team I owe devotion to. It’s not something that defines me as a person. Why should I be patriotic toward a building where I take tests and do homework?
The truth is, most people only feel loyalty toward their school because they are enrolled in it. That’s the only real reason. Students at other schools feel the same about theirs, and if you switched places, you’d probably feel the same there, too. It’s not about the school itself; it’s about the expectation.
Yes, school is a place where people learn and form friendships, but those relationships can happen anywhere. I love spending time with my friends, but that doesn’t require themed days or pep rallies. I don’t need to shout school chants to feel connected to the people around me.
Pep Rallies and Lost Class Time
Pep rallies are the clearest example of how pointless these events can be. No one actually wants to go, and no one really participates unless they’re forced to. Meanwhile, class time gets cut short, which affects teachers and students who are trying to keep up with lessons, especially in classes like AP or Honors, where every minute counts.
When a pep rally happens during the school day, teachers lose valuable instruction time, and students lose focus. That time doesn’t just disappear — it pushes lessons and tests back, and everyone shares that stress. If we’re going to spend a school day doing something that doesn’t help us academically, we might as well take the day off instead.
Some argue that pep rallies build excitement and bring everyone together, but excitement for what? Maybe the football team enjoys the spotlight, but the rest of the student body mostly just sits in crowded bleachers waiting for it to end. It’s hard to see how that’s supposed to boost school pride.
Spirit Week or Spiritless Week?
Then there’s Spirit Week. Every day has a theme, such as Pajama Day, Twin Day or Decades Day, but most people don’t even dress up. A handful of students go all out, but for the majority, it’s just another week.
When participation is low, the purpose of Spirit Week becomes unclear. What is it creating other than an illusion of enthusiasm? If people aren’t genuinely excited to take part, it’s not really about community — it’s about appearances.
And even when people do participate, what’s the goal? To prove loyalty to a school? To show we’re better than another high school down the road? It’s hard to find meaning in something that feels so performative.
The Commercial Side of School Spirit
Another thing to consider is how much of the “spirit” culture is tied to money. School pride sells. When alumni feel nostalgic and proud of their old school, they’re more likely to donate. When students think of loyalty, they’re more likely to buy merchandise — such as shirts, rings, hoodies, yearbooks and tickets.
It’s not necessarily evil, but it’s definitely commercial. Spirit events create emotional attachment, and emotional attachment drives spending. It’s a cycle that benefits the system more than the students.
This mindset also shows up in colleges. Universities rely on alumni donations, branding and merchandise sales to stay competitive. That’s why college mascots, colors and traditions are such a big deal — they make money. High schools are slowly doing the same thing, even if they don’t realize it.
The problem is that commercializing education shifts focus away from learning. School becomes less about academics and more about image — about how fun or spirited it looks from the outside. When schools prioritize fundraising and optics, real education can start to slip through the cracks.
Tradition versus meaning
Of course, traditions aren’t always bad. They can bring people together and make memories. But for something to matter, it has to mean something. If students are only participating because they feel obligated, the tradition has lost its purpose.
There’s nothing wrong with having fun or celebrating school events. However, we should be able to question whether these activities still serve us or merely consume time and money. Perhaps it’s time for schools to focus less on surface-level pride and more on creating environments that genuinely help students feel supported, understood and connected.
That kind of spirit doesn’t need matching T-shirts or pep rallies — it just needs authenticity.