Never before have there been so many students claiming to be first year health sci students on Castle St. Why would anyone make such an absurd claim, you ask? It’s likely because they’re not even students.
Recently, there has been a significant upturn in the amount of Dunedin highschool students daring to venture out into the wild streets of studentville, emboldened by the anonymity that large street parties provide. Though this phenomenon has a history dating back decades, the process has accelerated recently with more younglings smoking cones, drinking copiously, and even clubbing in Catacombs (seen at one bold formal afterparty).
On Saturday June 24, Columba College, a sporting and academic behemoth nestled in Māori hill, hosted their senior formal for Year 12 and 13 students. Notably, the formal afterparty was hosted at an entirely booked out Catacombs where students frothed to the infamous thudding of DnB. Besides the fact that booking out a nightclub is undoubtedly an absolute gun venture, the act perhaps mirrors the efforts of highschool kids getting increasingly involved in student culture. While Critic Te Ārohi has heard rumours of a similar formal afterparty occurring at Suburbia in weeks to come, the primary offender at this stage is the afterparty at Catacombs.
But where does this obsession with student culture spawn from? Sure, it does well to draw in the out-of-towners who only see the highlights, but the fact that even locals are being bamboozled makes for an interesting sight. One Year 12 student, Alex*, told Critic Te Ārohi that the primary reason for increased interest was that “student culture is so public in Dunedin.” Still, she did admit that “there’s a certain type” that takes the plunge into the depths of Castle, having never gone in herself.
While many would suspect the “certain type” to be the Logan park larakkin located conveniently at the gates of studentville, Fletcher, a second-year student who ventured into Castle as a Year 13, told us that is was mainly those who were “trying to look cool” (AKA posers). Scorning his own youthful folly, Fletcher stated that the experience was “pretty shit, really, as we mainly just hung out together.” Going one step further, Fletcher told Critic Te Ārohi, “If I saw a Year 13 out and about, I would drop them,” justifying his bold claim with the assertion that, “their time will come.”
Ben, a student who performed the same crime as Fletcher, shone some light on the benefits of the excursion when he told Critic Te Ārohi that “you had to sell a lie” to get away with it. Ben admitted, “We all knew we didn’t belong and it was kinda fun sneaking around telling people your course that you’d made up.”
Based on this testimony, the murky motivations of the intrepid Year 13’s venturing onto Castle became apparent. The “certain type” that Alex* refers to is the dare-devil, inspired by the glitz and the glam of student life, risking a beating or potential embarrassment to get a taste of the thrill that comes with identity fraud. When you frame it like this, the recent spike in the number of Year 13’s wandering Castle Street makes sense. Keep an eye on the streets of studentville for updates on the trajectory of this worrying trend.
*Name changed.