Earlier this afternoon, my high school was dismissed ninety minutes early due to a reported security threat. Naturally, the stress was evident in the hurried steps, wavering voices and packs of students huddled together. Once everyone got home safely, our generation’s favorite breeding ground for rumors-- Facebook-- exploded with theories, complaints, and exclamations of joy at the shortened school day. Many people shared articles, as the early dismissal had made it into most local news. One article especially, from Boston.com, was especially publicized by my peers. However, it was not actually the content of the article that people found so interesting, it was the comments. One reads “oh, did someone spit on their BMWs? poor babies”, another “too bad the spoiled brats had to leave early”. The second has since been deleted because of the negative responses it garnered.

As one of these so-called “poor babies” and “spoiled brats”, I’m a little hurt. True, many of us used our iPhones to call parents or nannies. And yes, this threat was blown out of proportion due to how rare things like this are in my small town. Yet do I deserve to be shamed and humiliated because I’ve grown up in this relatively affluent and safe community?

In and around my town, the term “the bubble” regularly gets thrown around to describe the world I’ve been brought up in. Adults often tell me and my friends how sheltered we are from the outside world, here in the bubble. And I agree with this statement. My life is largely one of relative luxury; as a fifteen year old, I’ve yet to experience real hurt, real heartbreak, and real hardship. The bubble of family vacations, numerous extracurriculars, and nice cars is a veil hiding the real world.

Some people, like the commenters on the Boston.com article, assume that becasue of the bubble, we are bad people. This hurts. I have been brought up to understand that I am lucky; that I lead a privileged life. I regularly encounter stereotypes-- that I can get anything I want from my parents, that I cry over a broken nail, that my biggest worry is whether my outfit matches my bag. By and large, these stereotypes are untrue. Granted, there are people like this in my town, at my camp, in my youth group. But the vast majority of my peers living inside “the bubble” understand how lucky we are. We try hard in school so that we can give our own children lives like we have been able to lead. We do not obsess over what we look like, our clothes do not always have to be perfect. We value time with our families, we understand that we are lucky.

Gratitude is a difficult quality, both to give and to receive. How could I possibly show to my parents how thankful I am for the life they have given me? What can I say to my teachers, thanking them for their years of experience and hours of preparation to teach me? And most importantly, who can I thank for the community I have been brought up in? There is no way for me to show how grateful I am for the lack of hate, violence, and negativity in the world around me. Try as I might, I will never be able to truly explain how indebted I am to all the people around me.

So the question comes up, is there a way to escape the stereotypes and sometimes hateful words about living in the bubble, if I will never be able to fully show how grateful I am for my life? I believe the answer is no. No one will ever know exactly how I feel about my life, because there is just no way to convey all the thanks that are due. The world I live in has sheltered me, but it has also shaped me. It has taught me about hate, embarrassment, and envy. It has made me the person I am today. So when people call me a “spoiled brat” and make fun of a security threat to my school, it it always just another reminder to try and show a little bit more thanks, and to try just a little bit harder to see past the bubble.