"No wonder you're like that," an editor dressing me down once said after he'd found out where I went to high school.
Four hours in the trenches of the malassada booth and an informal post-carnival gathering told me I was wrong.
Punahou graduates, for the most part, are not elitist, over-privileged or megalomaniacal. We are in all walks of life, trying to make life better for our families and our communities.
But like all fellow alums as well as current students, I've seen the sideway smirks and roll of the eyes, heard the snide remarks and "oooo's" of mock envy.
"What high school you went?"
I sometimes dreaded the simple act of answering the question for fear that it would come across as a boast.
"No wonder you're like that," an editor dressing me down once said after he'd found out where I went to high school.
Never mind the fact that I grew up in very middle-class Palolo and that my parents, like many at Punahou, worked long hours at blue-collar jobs to put a brother and me through school.
The Punahou-bashing began at UH and continues until this day. In a computerized, staff-wide message announcing the arrival of carnival malassadas last Friday, I mistakenly urged my colleagues to attend, have a good time and contribute to a good cause.
After all, hadn't Punahou President James Scott told a fellow reporter/alum that the carnival was more important than ever because nearly half of all families sending kids to the school now required financial assistance?
Boy was I trashed.
Look, I'm not here to argue private vs. public, particularly on the eve of a public teachers' strike.
Some think that the large number of private schools drain talent away from the public system thus contributing to lower test scores.
So be it. I won't argue that point. But I also firmly believe that if you're motivated, you can can succeed regardless of where you're going to school.
Schools like Punahou, more than anything else, foster an environment of educational competitiveness. If you're not motivated, the teachers and your classmates will push you, dammit.
OK, confession number two. Besides being embarrassed about a Punahou education, I was ashamed of my fellow alumna. I'd look disgustingly in the quarterly Punahou Bulletin at stories telling how so-and-so is now a cardiologist or starting up a new law firm.
How pathetic, how self-serving, how filthy rich, I would tell myself, echoing the comments I'd heard by Punahou bashers.
I stayed away from reunions, the malassada booth at carnival time and other class functions primarily because of these feelings.
This year marks my 15th year since graduation. OK, I told myself, I think I can handle it. Let's see how snooty they really are. And what the heck, I figured, maybe I'd renew a few acquaintances who would make good news sources.
What we often fail to see is that many are making valuable contributions to our society. One lawyer-classmate is with the Native Hawaiian Legal Corp., having grown weary of her job at a top downtown law firm.
A good number of my classmates are now teachers, PUBLIC school teachers, whom I am confident are providing a quality education for their students.
Today, Punahou requires that their high school students do community service to get them "outside the ivory walls." It's a concept I applaud heartily.
There was no such requirement during my Punahou years but I, like others, did volunteer work.
And from what I saw Saturday night, that effort continues.
Yeah, many of us are successful. But I'm no longer going to bash anyone for earning what they worked very hard to achieve.
And sure we have spoiled brats and ruthless profiteers among our graduates, but doesn't every school?
We also boast Nainoa Thompson, who's made immeasurable contributions to the Hawaiian culture. Foodland's Jenai Sullivan Wall came up with the Shop For Education program that's donated millions of dollars worth of computer equipment to public schools.
Steve Case, despite the hits he's taken lately, is a pioneer in the Internet world. Debbie Morikawa just finished a stint as executive director of the Institute for Human Services and is now embarking on another nonprofit project.
Most of us, at least the ones I saw, are using a quality education to nurture our community and make it better for our families and those of our neighbors.
That is the true value of a Punahou.
That is what Scott, the Board of Trustees and others in charge of Punahou's future should reaffirm over and over again.
For that mission, there can be no shame or embarrassment.