I’ve been through high school. I’ve lived among wild animals in Africa. And I have to admit, school can be a lot more hazardous. With kids heading back to class soon enough, I’ve had some thoughts on the jungles of the educational kind.

We all know that Darwin was right: life is a matter of survival of the fittest. What we didn’t know is that he could have forgone his famous journey to the Galapagos and simply spent time in our American school system.

Jackals waiting to feast on the hard-won kill of a lion? Try the kid who stole your answers on a test you studied all night for. Hyenas lurking in the savanna grass, waiting for you to make a wrong move? I’d prefer that to the clique of Mean Girls who make snide comments just loud enough for the innocent prey to hear: the poor guy who mistakenly takes the direct route down the hallway instead of going the long way around to avoid the perils of the popular kids.

We all know the leopard, stealthily moving around but hard to catch. In high school, he probably has dreamy eyes that mesmerize the female of the species. At first you might feel happy to be noticed by someone of his stature, but be assured he wants something—perhaps to copy your homework—because it’s always about him, not you.

Cheetahs are sleek and beautiful and can disappear in a heartbeat. They’d rather give up their prize than fight for it. They’re lovers, not fighters, and most people love to count them among their friends because of their lack of aggression and gentle demeanor. They also purr magnificently and it's infectious.

Some girls are peacocks, preening themselves to be seen, to be rewarded for their beauty alone. These girls usually reapply make-up at the end of every class and give disdaining glances at anyone who dares interrupt their ritual of spreading their tail feathers for everyone to admire.

How about the meerkat? Quiet and studious, he’ll dig his hole and then work hard, trying to ignore all the surface activity most of us are concerned with. These students sometimes end up running mega-corporations as adults, but you probably barely noticed them during high school.

Of course there’s the hippo—a rumor monger if ever there was one. She looks cute and safe, but once she opens her jaws, you’re in trouble. These creatures are usually attended by birds fluttering about, safe in the hippo’s presence and willing to take her leftovers.

In my high school, the lion was the football star. He’d spend each lunch hour out on the grass called Senior Lawn, surrounded by admiring lionesses who were just glad to be counted among his kingdom.

You remember the pack animals, the wolves, who felt safety in numbers, creatures who attack before being attacked—as opposed to the herd animals, like antelopes, who choose groups for protection rather than predation, who move as one in hopes of avoiding being singled out and separated from the herd for sacrifice.

How do we prepare our children for a jungle of big cats and small mice—and where will they fit in? The world of high school is a microcosm of the real world, but maybe even more bloodthirsty—because young people haven’t developed a set of ethics yet, or at least haven’t committed to following them.

Schools are full of jungle animals—snakes who charm, birds who flit and flutter, ostriches who bury their heads, salamanders who camouflage themselves, and lions who rule. Which will you encourage your child to be?