Hello, Children!
This is how we do it here: Your guide to your new school
By Angela Iadanza
Published September 9, 2005
Welcome, class of 2009, to the elusive and effervescent James A. Garfield High School! I know you’re all a little anxious about high school (and for those of you who still think you’re not, we’ll catch up with you later on in the year), but as long as you are informed about a few things, you should have a pretty smooth transition. Thus, out of my genuine desire to make your debut into the real world as painless as possible, I have compiled Eight Simple Rules for Not Having Your Freshman Year Suck.
1. The very first order of business? Find your niche. Getting involved in activities is the single most important thing to do at Garfield, whether you’re looking to throw yourself into the social scene or just pick up a couple friends. If you’re feeling up to it, join a sports team or a music class. For the people who like to do what everyone else does, there are the massive extracurricular clubs, such as Post 84, our outdoor education program here at Garfield, and our student-directed Drama Club. There are also smaller clubs, focused on languages, human rights, culture, academics, and so forth. For the rare few who like to do their own thing, take a chance and start your own club. We’re still missing the Underwater Basket-Weaving League, the Three-Toed Sloth Club, and Young Republicans for Voldemort (Seattle Chapter).
2. Show respect for the upperclassmen. Yes, we’re arrogant. Yes, we’re patronizing. Yes, we’re taking part in completely ageist behavior and using your displacement into a new environment t o our advantages. But if you want to get somewhere in Garfield, you’ll have to adapt to your spot at the bottom of the food chain. So, no matter how ridiculous, reckless, or raunchy they may seem, do not hate on the class of ‘06, the class of ‘07, or individual members of either class. That being said, you may mess with the class of ‘08 as much as you deem necessary. After all, no one can deny that even “OH NINE” sounds better than “OH EIGHT.”
3. Please, no matter what your instincts may be, do not rebel against your Ignite mentors. Even though they may seem to be full of it (and some of them probably are), they are your salvation under the guise of corny bonding games. Let’s face it, the visits from your mentors will often save you from pop quizzes on the history of Indochina, book reports that are due, and intensely boring lectures on literary devices. Plus, if you get lucky, your mentor will feel sorry for you and bring you Krispy Kremes.
4. If you’re going to eat lunch, do it right. With lengthy classes and minuscule breaks, lunch is often the best part of a Garfield student’s day. As freshmen, though, there are certain places where you can and cannot eat. The “no freshmen off-campus” policy means that if you set one foot on the other side of 23rd, you’ll b e hunted down, grabbed, and put in detention by a surly security guard who can smell your pungent freshman musk from a mile away. Therefore, you must eat on school grounds. Don’t worry! You have been reserved excellent areas for dining, such as the steps and lawn outside the doors on the north and west sides of the building, the third floor, the A.C., or, if you’re feeling really badass, the cafeteria. Alder Street is forbidden territory.
5. Guys, wear the same thing every day. The uglier, the better. Even if you’re known as the kid with the puke-colored sweater-vest, at least you’ll get attention. Girls, if you’re looking to turn some heads, take advantage of our extremely liberal dress code to bring out your tube tops, big black boots, trucker hats, and hoochiemama short shorts to look as seductive as humanly possible for a fourteen-year-old. And, if you can, successfully pitch your voice to frequencies that rise above everyone else’s; that’ll get you even more respect and notice.
6. Don’t procrastinate. When you get your term paper on Taoism done the day before the day before it’s due, you can boast about it to your friends, who’ll then go on and on about how you’re a total overachiever because they’re jealous and they’ll be pulling all-nighters. Nevermind that this advice is coming to you from the girl who’s currently up at twelve-thirty in the morning, frantically writing an article while instant-messenging four or five different people, playing online word games, and googling Edward Gorey.
7. Get to class on time and keep out of the halls. If you don’t, you will be caught by administrators in what is called a “hall sweep.” You’ll be forced to clean the lunchroom, sweep the annex, or complete some other god-awful labor that you may or may not have deserved as punishment. They’re hoping that you’ll learn an important lesson about being punctual, but you’ll also miss more of your education than you would have if they’d just let you continue to walk to class. If you don’t go to class at all, your parents will find out because you’ll get a phone call home from the main office. However, since the phone call is just an automated message, you could technically pick up the phone first, listen for a moment, then say “No, this isn’t Gary’s Gardening Service, which number did you call?… Oh, well this is five-five-five, five-five-five-five… yes, good-bye,” hang up, and tell your parents that it was a wrong number. Not that I’ve ever done that or anything.
8. SUBMIT. Some of you are probably afraid of getting froshed, while others may be looking forward to it. I could tell you that froshing (also known as hazing, initiation, or whatever the administration chooses to call it) is against Garfield’s school policy and that you shouldn’t worry… but that’s not going to stop it from happening to most of you by the end of the school year. The likelihood is increased if you are on a sports team or your sibling is an upperclassman. Keep in mind, bragging about how you’re going to get froshed only makes you look like you’re trying too hard. Just take it with your head held high and brag about it later, like the rest of us who were shaving-creamed, ketchuped, dumped in the lake, floured, and then made to eat an entire tube of wasabi on stage in front of an audience of approximately 100 people.
That’s about it. Just follow those eight little guidelines, and you’ll turn out okay. If you don’t, it’s no big deal… you’ll only fail all of your classes, become a social outcast, and wind up in juvenile hall for repeated offenses of jaywalking. Now, stiffen up that lower lip – and let the games begin!
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