There are three types of people in New Trier: those who wear senior sacks, those who do not, and those who do not even know what they are. In case you fall into the final category, a senior sack is a type of backpack worn by seniors. The sack uses drawstrings instead of normal straps and cannot hold much more than an iPhone, an iPad, and a school ID card.

The senior sack is a phenomenon particular to Trevian pop culture, but the reasons behind its evolution remain unanswered. “The purpose of a senior sack is to bring out the mirth of kindergarten,” states senior Charlie Zoller, no doubt alluding to many sacks decorated with fuzzy animals like kittens or puppies. “Mine sports a sparkly, bedazzled peace sign with rhinestones that light up,” he continued. “It’s a satire on oneself.”

Tim Campbell, also a senior, stated that the purpose of his senior sack was to “annoy people.” He plans to “attach speakers to a backpack, power it up with an amp, and ironically blast classical music” as he walks through the halls. When asked what his reasons for this scheme were, he replied, “I have no reasons. I’m a senior; I stopped reasoning with logic.”

Senior Paige Campbell (no relation to Tim) posited that the point of senior sacks is to reduce stress on shoulder muscles. “There’s no reason to be carrying around a lot of stuff when you’re a senior, ‘cause your teachers are kind of giving up, not assigning much, so you don’t need a big backpack.”

Brian Woodruff told his advisery that the miniature backpacks were adopted so that the senior class could be “lazy! Lazy second-semester seniors!” he exclaimed, half-laughing.

Apart from these few, however, it is almost impossible to get anyone to talk seriously about senior sacks. Many juniors and sophomores have never heard the term before, although a few of them are familiar with the backpacks. Many seniors were incapable of talking about them without bursting into laughter; the most common responses to “What are your thoughts on senior sacks?” were “I don’t know, they’re cool I guess, “ and “Whatever, people who wear those are lazy.”

After much thought, I have concluded that this is because senior sacks are not supposed to be serious. They are an expression of absurdity, a gesture of independence clad in sequins and lolcats. They are a last hurrah of do-it-because-you-can before the confines of college. Even if a senior sack is a symptom of second-semester-senioritis, it is still a pillar of New Trier student culture that both celebrates and mourns the end of our time in these hallowed halls.