By Marina Gunning ‘27 in Spring 2026
“You live in the Bay Area and have never been to a Warriors game? That’s so embarrassing.”
I heard this from a peer after my friend mentioned that they had never been to a game. While it was meant as a joke, it revealed something deeper. Going to a Golden State Warriors game is far from universal as “most fans can’t afford to go” (SF Gate); so what seems like a lighthearted comment instead reflects a form of privilege that often goes unnoticed.
At MA, many of the experiences and expectations that shape student life are rooted in financial privilege, creating a baseline which feels universal, even when it is not. This unintended yet prevalent culture can quickly begin to shape how students see themselves and each other.
Aside from occasional excursions like basketball games, these norms can show up in everyday routines as well. As students approach 16, it is not only expected that they get their license, but soon after, that they get a car and start driving themselves to school. I have heard many harmless jokes about who still hasn’t gotten their license or who relies on communal modes of transportation, and while there is nothing inherently wrong with joking among friends, these moments point to a broader expectation around independence that not everyone can meet.
In reality, access to a car is far from universal. According to the 2021 U.S. Census, people under 24 made up 16% of the population, yet accounted for only 0.02% of car ownership. Buying a car is expensive, and beyond that, maintenance and rising gas prices make it unrealistic for many high school students. Despite these obstacles, there remains a culture at MA where not driving yourself to school can feel unusual or even embarrassing, and over time, these expectations can lead to how students view their self-worth.
At a college preparatory school like MA, college is a constant topic of conversation, especially as students get older. The process itself is filled with costs: tutoring for standardized tests, paying to take those tests, traveling to visit campuses, and ultimately affording tuition. Even so, the role of money is often downplayed, and the college process is treated as a clear reflection of individual worth. I often hear students comparing SAT and ACT scores, tying their intelligence to a number that reflects access to preparation as much as ability.
Beyond simply applying to schools, these same parameters apply to the actual college selection process. The talk around colleges is often simplified to the language of which schools are ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ despite the fact that, for many students, college is ultimately a financial decision. Many of the universities represented among MA students can cost up to $370,000 for four years (CNBC). At the same time, 43.7% of undergraduate students in the United States attended community colleges in the 2020–21 school year, a path that certainly exists within the MA community, but is not always given the same visibility or validation in everyday conversations (U.S. Department of Education).
None of these moments are usually intended to cause harm. Most of the time, they come from people sharing their own experiences without considering how different those experiences might be from someone else’s. But when certain lifestyles, opportunities, and outcomes are treated as the norm, these small moments can quietly reinforce a culture where financial privilege is overlooked. Recognizing this does not mean rejecting these experiences altogether, but rather becoming more aware of the assumptions we carry, and understanding that what feels normal to some may be entirely out of reach for others.