Let’s Say Goodbye to Floors Five to10

It’s another dismal school day at the agonizing Stuyvesant High School. Chorus on the first floor is about to end and your next class is—wait—Art History?? On the 10th floor??? You’ll never make it in time! May God have mercy on your soul. But what if I told you things could be another way?

I propose a simple solution to those horrific seven-plus floor transitions: Simply get rid of the top five floors of the building. Not convinced? Hear me out!

The top five floors of our wonderful institution cause many problems. For example, everyone remembers walking up the broken 7-9 escalator for a good month. Not to mention all the trouble I get from my non-Stuy friends about it. I’m tired of people being like, “EXCUSE ME, YOUR SCHOOL HAS 10 FLOORS? HOW DO YOU STILL HAVE LEGS?” Also, don’t even get me started on how many injuries there have been from people slipping and falling around the 11th-floor pool. We should just get rid of that level too.

“But Anjali,” you might be asking, “what about all that classroom space? We need it, don’t we?” Fear not, for I have a few simple solutions to this as well. Option A: using TARDIS tech to create infinite space at the senior bar (requires at least a 9000 percent increase in annual funding for TARDIS research). Option B: just kicking out all the teachers and staff. It’s not like we need them, right? Option C: halving the number of students in the school on a given day by separating everyone into two groups and having them come in on alternating days. Nah, just kidding—let’s just all not come to school. That would work even better!

As for the method required to remove the floors physically, I will need five cranes, 27 sticks of dynamite, one tugboat, and eight police cars. Send those items to me via the second-floor donation box, and I’ll take care of the rest.

Of course, there is the matter of what we should do with the top five floors once they’re removed. I propose to sell them on eBay to increase school funding. We could also mail them to Staten Island Tech and watch as their puny three floors are crushed under the weight of our majestic former top half.