As young women head back to school this fall, many face a grading system they have learned to fear -- ratings by their male classmates, which rank women mostly in terms of physical attributes. Three young writers examine several aspects of the rating game: Caille Millner finds that the practice is much more widespread than people realize. Lyn Duff describes the effects of being low rated and Stephen Gaines suggests that it is possible to move beyond the game. Millner, Duff and Gaines are on the staff of YO! (Youth Outlook), a monthly newspaper by and about young people produced by Pacific News Service.

FEMALE STUDENTS GIRD THEMSELVES FOR THE REAL RATINGS WAR

BY CAILLE MILLNER

Small, frail, almost delicate, my friend James prides himself on being a gentleman. The 23-year-old college student takes women companions to dinner without expecting or asking for favors in return; opens doors; even remembers to ask if they prefer Coke or Pepsi. He's the type of guy you wanted for a boyfriend when you first started dating. But he has a private habit.

"I keep a list of about 130 girls, and rate them in detail," he says casually. "I have a star rating, like you would for a restaurant or a hotel. The most a girl can get is five stars."

James is not ashamed about this -- "Girls should consider it flattering, especially if they get a good rating" -- but he keeps his list to himself . "It's mine, it's private!!"

James is not particularly handsome, and -- except for his impeccable manners -- there is little to make him stand out to women. But he feels he can judge what makes a woman worthy. "It's very personal and very comprehensive," he says. " A lot of guys just go on breast size or body shape, but I think about intelligence and personality, too. Right next to my comments about her looks, I put a personality rating -- 'bitch,' 'skank,' 'cool girl,' 'mean girl'--stuff like that."

Then he said to me, "What are you looking so worried for? I gave you a good rating."

We don't hang out much anymore.

James is practically a grown man, a little old to be playing the ratings game. Even more troubling is the fact that it seems to begin with boys who are quite young -- and can become very public.

This spring, controversy erupted at a Palo Alto, California middle school when several pre-teen male students built a web page devoted to the physical attributes of their female classmates. The web site was removed from the Internet -- but not before the world had learned these girls' breast sizes, the way they walked, who had cellulite -- and the girls had learned what the opposite sex considered valuable about them.

By the time they reach high school, most girls know their "ranking" in male eyes--which parts of them measure up and which fall short. While some may throw themselves into the competition, even the "winners" say they feel diminished when they find out they've been ranked.

"It's stupid and denigrating," says Elizabeth, 18. "If a man gives you a high rating, you might feel good for a minute, but then it starts making you feel self-conscious. Then you realize -- if a man is crude enough to be rating women in the first place, his thoughts aren't important anyway."

A friend calls Sherwyn, 18, "the nicest person in the world." Yet Sherwyn admits, "I rate girls, all guys do--it's a natural thing, almost instinctive. I don't know anyone who has really outgrown the practice. I mean, I've seen my dad check out girls before, and he's almost 40."

He concedes he has never heard of girls rating guys. "I can never remember a girl rating me," he says. "If such a thing did happen, I would feel very self-conscious no matter what the rating."

Does he worry that he might be making girls feel the same way?

"I try to make sure that no one finds out."

If Sherwyn is right, there may not be much hope for the future of relations between the sexes. But some men his age show flashes of insight.

"Guys rank girls to feel better about themselves," explains Melvin, 18. "It's a sad practice, but people are cruel when they're insecure. They're just covering up their own inadequacies."

Melvin came by this understanding the hard way. As a high school freshman he was "initiated" into the football team. "The seniors would rank the girls attending the fall sports send-off ceremony," he recalls, "and if they felt a girl didn't rate, they'd send a freshman to eject her from the party. They made us act like referees -- we had whistles, the works. One of us would have to run up to a girl, blow the whistle, then shout something like 'illegal use of a stuffed bra, too much backfield in motion, too many zits on the playing field...YOU ARE OUT OF HERE!"'

Melvin shakes his head sadly. "I shouldn't have done it," he says now. I made this girl cry. It turned out she had an eating disorder. I never participate in initiations anymore. "

Yet he continues to rate women. "It is possible to be a gentleman and know how to keep your opinions private," he avows. He prefers to discuss a woman's qualities at length, in words, rather than using a numerical system. Darius, 17, doesn't rate girls at all. "I think it's childish, a waste of time, and just plain silly."

Darius may not play by the rules, but according to his ratings-minded friends, his own girlfriends have all been of the highest order. Maybe his success comes because Darius relates to a girl as an individual--and she knows she's not being seen as more than a number.

"I'd rather go out with a real girl than play around rating all the other ones," says Darius.

There's no question what kind of rating he deserves.

RATED!: A GIRL'S OWN STORY

By Lyn Duff

The year I was 13, over a dozen boys in my suburban junior high drew up a list ranking the entire female student body from the prettiest to the ugliest. I ranked 476, a number that I've never forgotten. I was last, officially the ugliest girl in my entire school.

Within days, the whole school had seen the list. One boy dropped a copy, complete with "comments," during an Algebra quiz. The teacher glanced at it, then -- as she did with any confiscated note -- posted it on the bulletin board.

Soon my status was the talk of the school. Other girls, relieved that they weren't last on the list themselves, rubbed it in. "Did you see The List? Hee hee hee." When I complained to a guidance counselor, she responded by suggesting that maybe I should lose some weight so my peers wouldn't tease me so much.

Teachers treated the list like a harmless prank. The boys, realizing they wouldn't even be admonished, made an expanded list that included "favorite sexual positions" as well as special designations like "easiest" and "most prudish."

It's not like I was dying to be liked by the boys who had ranked me at the bottom. They were obnoxious, pimply-faced, and they smelled. But they felt they had the right to pass judgment on every girl at the school.

I look back at pictures of myself at 13 and I see a chubby girl with curly hair and braces, always decked out in fuzzy pink sweaters--hardly the Frankenstein I remember. I think I was disliked, even hated, not for being ugly but for being different--for being fat and liking classical music and hating P.E.

The number "476" still makes me wince, but I'm glad that I disengaged from the whole process of trying to fit in. If I'd thrown away who I was in an effort to be accepted, I might have moved up a few notches in the estimation of those smelly boys, but I would never have become myself.

MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

By Stephen Gaines

Beauty -- they say it's in the eye of the beholder, but I question whether it really has that much to do with the eyes.

At one time, my idea of beauty centered around light skin, a big chest, and long hair -- your average case of cultural brainwash. I recall hiding behind a cheesy adolescent grin as I secretly rated the sister who stood before me. It was like a game. I would constantly search for girls who could meet all my criteria.

As you can probably guess, no one ever measured up. Then, out of nowhere, I was hit. I met a woman who didn't even come close to the unreal mix I had derived from TV, movies and "guy talk." I wasn't very attracted to her physically, but her unseen hands eased and caressed my spirit. I felt warmth in her arms, and love in her speech.

Finding her inner beauty brought revelations about her physical attractiveness -- the gentle curve of her eyes, the soothing innocence of her smile. Where I had once seen an awkward girl, I now recognized the subtle strength of a woman.

This is not a fairy tale. I didn't marry the young lady and whisk her away to some exotic locale. But I did learn that to measure attractiveness solely in physical terms is to do oneself a disservice. How many times have I met physically attractive people whose state of mind caused them to become ugly? How many times have I met physically unattractive people whose inner beauty allowed them to soar?

It seems to me that beauty has more to do with our uniqueness, our willingness to love and be loved. Beauty truly resides in the hearts and minds of those who are willing to probe the depths of themselves and others.