Senior superlatives are a time-honoured, all-American tradition. They’re an old tradition here at ISB, too. When the first senior class graduated from ISB in 1958, all eight of them, they shared their superlatives with the juniors. Their honourifics included such classics as “most likely to succeed” and “best dressed”. They did, however, differentiate between “friendliest” and “easiest to get along with.”

While some superlatives are quaint, others are little more than vulgar. Not so long ago, back in 2004 (after a hiatus of many years), we had such gems as “biggest bad ass” and “biggest pimp”. “Most likely to marry for $$$”, too, seems unambiguously awful. And when the Erawan tells us definitively who’s “most likely to $ucceed”, you can’t help but wonder how we’re measuring success.

The blatant, appalling sexism, shallowness, and vulgarity of the 2004 issue has only morphed and disguised itself over time; it hasn’t gone away. “Most likely to marry for $$$”, for example, was a one-off, but, by 2007, seniors were voting on who was “most likely to marry a celebrity.” Same difference. And just five years ago, seniors were still weeding out the “next Betty Crocker”; unlike almost all the other superlatives in this edition of the yearbook, only one person was assigned this epithet: a girl. I doubt that the absurdity of these superlatives needs my elaboration. We might as well be candid about what we’re really celebrating; but, hey, “most likely to be a trophy wife” and “best homemaker” don’t have the same charm.

Perhaps the most persistent superlative also stands out as one of the most egregious. The yearbook has long praised physical beauty: “best looking” in 1958, “cutest derriere” in 2004 (I kid you not), and “natural beauties” in last year’s issue. In a world in which we’re increasingly fond of telling people (and especially children) that physical beauty only goes skin deep, our yearbooks have celebrated an advantage that stems from a combination of lucky genetics, ample money for beauty products or fashionable apparel, and, in some cases, a perverse amount of spare time to spend attending to personal grooming. Don’t get me wrong – I can be a dandy like the best of them, and I don’t mean to say that the “natural beauties” of the class of 2014 have anything to be ashamed of. But, as a school, we are so much more than a bunch of pretty faces; we have a lot more than our looks to celebrate. This year’s Erawan is to do away with the “most attractive” epithet, or any variation thereof, and, to that, I can only say well done.

Superlatives can be a good laugh and a source of fond memories for those who, for some reason or another, wish to look back on the glory days of high school. We must, however, recognise that they also have the power to mirror and perpetuate our vices and our vanities. Some traditions, even old ones, should come to an end.

David Hallengren