Crackdown on Swapped Lockers to Crack Students’ Backs

Several Stuyvesant students have had their lockers taken from them. Here at the Humor department, we strive our best to debunk myths and present to you the facts. So here’s what actually happened with the Great Locker Crackdown.

It’s no surprise that teachers know that all the hanky-panky that goes on, from the corruption in the Student Union, to the best paper-sharing techniques of desperate test-takers, can be found on Facebook. So if my AP Underwater Basket Weaving teacher sees “Stuy Basket Weavers” under “suggested groups,” you bet he’s going to join in on the fun. (But we all know it was some bitter freshman who ratted us all out. You didn’t hear that from me, though.)

Let’s ignore the fact that “Buying & Selling Lockers @ Stuy” has existed ever since juniors have been begging for more AP classes. Let’s not take into account that this system has never caused any problems before, administrative or otherwise. Let’s also sidestep our knowledge of seniors’ lack of assigned P.E. storage. Some administrators took it upon themselves to open up a schoolwide game of Whack-a-Mole.

Just let that sink in for a moment.

Fast-forward to when an unsuspecting junior tried to open her locker, but unbeknownst to her, Dean Frederick Mussorgsky had cunningly replaced the padlock with an identical one in order to catch her in the act. Instead of having convenient access to a locker near her Spanish classroom, the junior was now late to Spanish, because she couldn’t access her textbook! The deans had won.

The junior’s devious ploy to make life easier for herself had been foiled. She had no choice but to approach Assistant Principal of Security, Health, and P.E. Brian Moran, effectively turning herself in for her heinous crimes. In return, she had her lunch privileges indefinitely revoked, was sentenced to 40 hours of library service, and suffered a fate worse than cafeteria food: Freshman Backpack Syndrome.

Freshman Backpack Syndrome (FBS) is a malady that typically affects humans of the first-year high school student status, and can typically bleed into the first few months of the second year until the individual acquires proper locker-using technique. Students were unable to plan the location of their storage room ahead of time. Some were assigned to an obscure area by the 11th-floor pool, and so they used their independence and self-sufficiency, cultivated by none other than Peter Stuyvesant himself, to accommodate themselves. Apparently, these attributes are only encouraged tongue-in-cheek here at Stuyvesant. Under the new locker-swapper-hating regime, students who are unable to leap tall buildings in a single bound are forced to carry pungent gym uniforms (including smelly sneakers), hefty language manuals, math notebooks, dissected pig carcasses, severed toes, and that draft that was supposed to be reviewed at the Writing Center.

And to all the freshmen out there: I’m sorry. Your FBS is now chronic.