Tim Daly:
Teen cinema has always laughed at the try-hard.
There’s Tracy Flick (Election), wallpapering the halls with homemade campaign posters. Max Fischer (Rushmore), fencing in his school blazer.1 Hermione Granger (Harry Potter), hand frozen in the raised position. Cady Heron (Mean Girls) proudly joining the Mathletes before learning they are social kryptonite.2
Trying hard was uncool. In the teen code, status should accrue effortlessly to rebels who barely want it. Better to be Ferris Bueller (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off), Cher Horowitz (Clueless), Jeff Spicoli (Fast Times at Ridgemont High) or Ren McCormack (Footloose) — boatloads of charisma, no strain.
The humor landed because the try-hards accepted the standard hopes of adults and then dialed them up so energetically that even the adults found them annoying.
There are fewer try-hards today. Over time, American schools have reduced friction in the name of worthy aims like equity, wellness, and belonging. By friction, I’m talking about the conditions – and reasonable pressures – that make effort necessary, not optional. Some changes were sensible. But collectively, we’ve watered down the notion that it takes effort to succeed – that trying is a key part of a student’s job