What Walsh, a member of the Wayland High School Class of 2010, is describing, of course, is Senioritis. The simple, contagious, and seemingly harmless condition which annually plagues thousands across the country is beginning to claim its victims in larger numbers, as 2010ers settle in to the notorious “Second Semester” of high school.

“It’s become especially rampant in these parts,” explains Jane Meadows, author of a parental-fiction-thriller novel Why Your Kids are Failing. Meadows recently announced the publishing date of a sequel, titled They May be Smart, But It Doesn’t Mean They’re Intelligent.

“More and more students learn for the sake of getting good grades, with their ultimate goal being to get into college,” continued Meadows. “While this is seen as appropriate in our culture, it stifles creative learning and in many ways discourages curiosity and exploration for the sake of knowledge. When second semester rolls around, for the many seniors who have already gotten acceptance letters, their incentive to learn is gone.”

Lack of energy is a major symptom associated with the disease, accompanying others such as lack of motivation, and simply “not caring.” Not only are infected students reluctant to finish assignments, they actually find it difficult to summon the brainpower needed to answer even the simplest questions or recall basic facts.

“Even the brightest students find themselves inexplicably drawn to the dark side during these months,” an anonymous guidance counselor told us sadly. “I’ve lost many wonderful students to the decadent and tempting Senior Slump lifestyle.”

Although the medical term for the condition is Senioritis, it is also commonly referred to as Senior Slump.

Warren Holmes openly admits to being a carrier of Senioritis. “Okay, maybe kids are getting a bit lazy during their final stretch of high school, but don’t try to tell me this hasn’t been around for a few centuries,” said Holmes. “I mean, Abe Lincoln went through senior slump his last two months of high school, and he still went on to become the first president and died at the ripe old age of ninety-five!”

Holmes was told that that Lincoln never attended high school, but simply waved it off, saying, “Hey, those are just details. At least I get the big picture. If I recall correctly, Lincoln reached the height of his career when he worked in those underground railroads, which eventually blossomed into our great cross-country subway system.”

What is even more astounding than Holmes’ historical knowledge and all-together stupidity, is the fact that he maintained an A average in U.S. History his junior year. He plans to pursue a major in History this fall at Harvard.

Another intriguing case is that of Annie Jenkins, a senior and member of the National Honors Society. Her mother, Doreene Jenkins, reports that upon finishing midterm exams, Annie returned home, ate a sandwich, and headed up to her room, telling her mother, “Wake me up for graduation.”

Two weeks later, Jenkins has yet to regain consciousness, puzzling doctors and worrying her mother. Gary Fenton, a local veterinarian, theorizes that she may be simply acting as bears do in the winter.

“They see the season as useless, and nature tells ‘em it’ll be over fastest if they just pass out until the sun’s shining again,” said Fenton. “Bears can’t help themselves, it’s just what they do. Maybe Annie’s just taking a leaf outta their book.”

A third and more common victim of Senior Slump is the willing contractor of the disease, such as Jimmy Walsh. But while Walsh woke up the Monday after midterms with a clear-cut case, others don’t have it quite as easy.

“I’m trying really hard to catch it,” Thompson said. “From what I’ve seen it’s loads of fun, and since I’ve gotten into all of my top schools early action, I don’t see any harm.”

Thompson, however, is having trouble “catching” Senioritis. A compulsive learner, he frequently goes to bed without doing his homework, only to wake up in the morning and find he has managed to complete it while sleeping.

“All my friends show up to class now and are clueless—they bomb tests, turn in magazine clippings instead of homework, and don’t even care!” said Thompson, “I’m telling you, I’m finally understanding what that guy meant when he said ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ That’s totally where it’s at right now, and where I aspire to be.”

There’s been quite a buzz at Wayland High School recently over the news of the administration’s withdrawal, due to construction, of senior privileges and parking next year. The juniors are in an uproar over the destruction of a way of life that has forever been intact for WHS seniors. This news is potentially the greatest tragedy in the history of this little dot on the map we call Wayland.

It is believed that the elimination of these privileges next year will cause a proportional decline in snacking across the school. Several polls were taken to gauge how juniors felt about the situation. In a recent imaginary survey created by the senior class, 88% of juniors polled believed that their Einstein Bagel and Starbucks consumption will dip dangerously low because of the new restrictions. In fact, 23 angry juniors surveyed simply ate their survey out of the hands of the surveyors.

“We’re hungry, and tater tots and Bosco sticks just simply won’t do it,” stated one junior as he chomped down on a 2-page questionnaire.

“I heard Bolocco’s was going to be featuring a new line of burritos, and to think I’m going to have to wait until the weekend to eat them is just disheartening,” another student responded.

The idea of sneaking out during frees is simply out of the question, considering that 93% of WHS students are terrified of Ms. Mauchan. This means that in order to avoid getting demerits, kids will have to step up and use their voices. The class of 2011 is speaking out with an important message that they want all the grades below them to hear: “Who among you will join the fight? They’ve taken our parking spots, they’ve taken our right to leave campus, don’t let them take away our snacks!”

Other non-snacking related complaints are also beginning to emerge from the junior class. “Who will I show off my new BMW to now? This is a travesty!” shouted yet another angry 2011 graduate. This is a fine point indeed. 2011 models are expected from a variety of car companies next year. How will students be able to inform their schoolmates that they have oodles of cash to spend on luxury vehicles if they don’t have a parking lot to put those luxury vehicles in?

The future seniors of WHS aren’t going down without a fight. Public protest and rumors of a mass parking lot sit-in have been stirring throughout the school. Several squirrelly-looking juniors have been seen in the depths of the media center drawing up protest signs and conspiring in small groups. When our WSPN coverage team approached them to ask a few questions, we were met with only downward-pointing eyebrows and a bounty of stink eye. We were, however, able to uncover the motives of the group: to overthrow the tyrannical leadership that has taken away their god-given right to leave campus for 45 minutes and waste their parents’ money.

A wide demographic of juniors were polled recently, from the slightly agitated to the morally outraged, and when asked how this harrowing news compared to current events there was a variety of responses.

Questions presented included:“On what level of importance would you say the issue of senior parking compares to the recent election of Scott Brown to the U.S. Senate?” Students responded with “Who’s Scott Brown?” and “What’s a Senate? Isn’t that, like, Obama’s Bodyguard?” These responses demonstrate the obvious dedication of these juniors to their cause, to the point that they won’t even allow national news to interfere with their job: to regain senior parking.

The current status of the senior lot and open campus is not looking pretty for the posh teens who had been waiting for the day these privileges would be handed down. Those who so dearly wanted  to rush home at 10:00 in the morning to eat breakfast with their moms and watch soap operas are going to miss out next year — unless they can get their voices recognized. Be heard, class of 2011! Fight for your right to be a hungry consumer.

Although the k-9 assisted drug search last Friday did not result in the finding of any illegal substances on campus, the search was not entirely fruitless. Written by a Wayland freshman, the letter below was found in a suspected bag, and immediately confiscated by officials. Consequently, it was handed over to and read by school administrators.

Aware of the breach of student rights and privacy involved in the confiscation, administrators tried their hardest to dispose of the letter without news of this infringement leaking out to student body. However, WSPN intercepted the document en route to the shredder. The document below has not been altered in any way, although the identity of the writer (a freshman with black hair, about 5’6, and kind of goofy looking) has been omitted.

Dear Santa Clause, Harry Hanukkah, and Kevin Kwanzaa,

I’m not quite sure which of you all to believe in any more, so this is a shout out to all three of you, as well as any of those other holiday guys. Except Easter Bunny, I don’t like him. Once, he gave me peanuts, and I’m allergic to those. I had a reaction and got real sick.

Anyways, I’m writing this thing to you guys ’cause I hear you can pull off some pretty cool stuff, like flying sleighs. I need something real important. Life or death important, basically. You see, me and all my friends go to Wayland High School, and we like it a lot.

It’s so full of uniquitiness, or at least that’s what everyone says. They say it’s special and one of a kind. (Just like me!) Anyways, it’s so neat and cool ’cause it’s got lots of buildings, and you get to walk around outside all the time between classes. I love it. The other day, my friend fell in a huge slushy puddle! Oh boy, that was funny. And then when I was getting out my phone to take a picture of him crying, I slipped on the ice and bumped my head, and all the kids in the Commons (that’s where everyone eats) laughed at me! I love it here.

Then, I got up and walked into the cafeteria. Gosh, I got the nicest welcome! All the senior guys were smiling at me and clapping, and gosh, I felt like million bucks! I was just entering the door when I saw my friend, who was mouthing something pretty frantically. I couldn’t understand, so I just smiled and waved. That’s when I tripped on the rug those funny senior guys had rolled up!

I fell flat on my face, and everyone positively erupted in laughter. My books were everywhere and I kinda hurt my arm, but boy it was worth it making all those people laugh. I might even pursue a career in that kind of thing, I heard clowns makes lots of money and most of them end up on Easy Street. (I don’t even know where that is but I think it’s in Lincoln, or somewhere near!) I’ll remember that moment forever.

I pulled myself up off the floor and headed over to Fran, the girl who was trying to get my attention before. We sat down and started to eat, but every two seconds the Commons door opened, and freezing air came gushing in. It was so cold! But it didn’t bother us, ’cause Fran had brought a blanket. Good old Fran. Apparently, the heat had shut off in the Language building a few weeks before, and since then she’s always come to school prepared.

We enjoyed a cozy lunch, and only our noses got cold cause we wore hats and gloves. Boy, is it tough to eat mozzarella sticks while wearing gloves! We finished lunch, and went to walk around outside. There’s this rule at Wayland about no throwing snowballs, but I got pelted in the side by some kid. He got demerits though.

That’s what’s so great about this place—it really teaches us students to have self control. They tempt you with being outdoors, but say you can’t throw snowballs. They have one story buildings, but say you can’t climb onto them. They have tunnels beneath the school with pinball machines, but say you can’t go down and play pinball ’cause of the asbestos. I really have learned a lot about putting rules before instinct.

My mom says instinct is my best quality though. That’s why I’m writing to you all. When I heard that the town had decided to make a new high school, my instinct suddenly started talking to me. Well, it might have been my conscience actually, I’m not quite sure.

Anyways, I realized to myself that the Wayland High School I am attending is a bona-fide, natural born Memory-Maker. It’s just one of those places, like the zoo or like the rollerskating rink they used to have in Waltham, that is simply there to make memories! I’m sure my friend Tim will never forget this place, since he broke his femur slipping on the ice on Wednesday and is out of basketball for the season. I know my brother Larry won’t forget this place either. He already graduated, but he told me that during every free period he ever had in high school, he would go down into those tunnels and play pinball. Now he has lung problems I guess, which he won’t be forgetting any time soon.

You see, what I’m trying to say is that a one building Wayland High School just won’t be as cool. And if they really have to do it I wish they could wait like a few years ’til I’m out of here. All I’ve ever wanted in life was senior parking, and rumor has it that it’s not gonna happen! That’s not selfish, right?

Please, Santa, Harry, and Kevin, all I want for my present this winter and next winter and next winter is my high school. It’s so special, and there’s nowhere else like it (except college I heard?). I guess when I’ve graduated you can let them tear it down, but can you just do me this a favor and make them keep it the same for now? I’ve been a really good boy this year, and to be honest I think I deserve it.

Faithfully yours,

[NAME WITHHELD BY WSPN]

Those of us who graduate high school and still can’t decide what to do with their lives may turn down a path of self expansion looking for bigger and better things. Many young adults decide to travel the world and search for an identity that may define them. The foolhardy and ultimately disillusioned teenagers who take this path often find themselves on a downward spiral of helplessness.

Most students begin these trips thinking they will be journeys of enlightenment and discovery, when in reality they just end up in frightening and unfortunate situations. According to a National Geographic field test, there are two scenarios most common to the fresh-out-of-high-school traveler seeking a spiritual meaning to his life:

1. The traveler quickly runs out of money and realizes that maybe he should’ve gotten a job before embarking on a global excursion. If this happens to you, expect to spend up to 3 months bumming money as a street performer in some random European city.
2. The traveler greatly offends someone with his rude American mannerisms, and then is incarcerated and/or beheaded for simple mistakes. In other words, the breathtaking trip backpacking through the Swiss Alps for a year will invariably end in an utter flop.

Another alternative to the typical four year college experience is to simply “chill” following graduation. Some students decide to leech off their parents’ hard earned money and live free of responsibility. This lifestyle is also referred to as “freeloading.”

The average freeloader sits around all day, watches re-runs of The Price is Right, and snacks on delicious Nacho Cheese Doritos. The great thing about this career path is that if you don’t like Doritos, you can head out to Donelan’s to purchase some Fritos or honey buns, because you probably don’t have anything better to do with your life.

Mooching has become even more profitable in these hard economic times, and it will surprisingly leave you in great financial shape. The only challenge associated with living this kind of lifestyle is figuring out how you will sleep at night knowing that you’re a lazy, inconsiderate bum and a burden to your family.

Lastly, when a normal university is too conventional, a superb alternative for higher education is Clown School. Each grade at WHS has its fair share of clowns, whether it’s that kid who asks clearly idiotic questions in class to get a couple of awkward chuckles, or that guy who continuously pokes the girl in front of him, thinking to himself that it’s the greatest joke ever created.

The Massachusetts Institute of Clownology, or MIC, is an ideal place for students to follow their dreams of becoming professional idiots. MIC guarantees its graduates will be earning up to a solid 9 dollars an hour following graduation, making the career a better choice than both gas station attendant and deli clerk. Possible majors range anywhere from unicycle repair to balloon animal design, and the school is well known for its highly esteemed programs in scaring small children senseless.

These wonderful programs are synonymous with MIC’s proverb: “Always avoiding the harsh realities of life.”  MIC has a lot to offer those high school seniors who are on the fence about what to do with their lives. Who knew becoming a clown could be so easy and done in such little time? Students can expect to graduate in as few as 6 weeks! This short school year ensures that MIC graduates will be out of school and off to a life of goofing off as soon as possible.

Whichever path you take, make sure you’re always doing what you feel passionate about. High School prepares us for great things, and we must allow ourselves to enjoy what we do once we leave the walls of adolescence behind. So to all you snack-happy freeloaders, goofy clown applicants, and aimless travelers, best of luck!

Over the past few months, high school seniors across the nation have stressed and panicked over the greatest question they have ever been asked: what college are you going to? Almost as many are asking themselves the second greatest question: how am I going to get in? Students fill out applications, write essays, take harder classes, and squeeze every little detail about their fascinating lives onto a sheet of paper to provide the notion of having a “well rounded high school career.” WSPN has asked various seniors what they are doing differently to get into college.

Anthony Bradford, a senior at Wayland, has developed a foolproof system. “If I really like a university, usually I’ll stalk their Dean of Students for a few days before I go to the open house , ” Bradford told us. Bradford will follow the Dean to coffee shops, bookstores, the dry cleaners, and all the way home, accumulating information that he would able to use in conversation. On the day of the open house, Bradford will carefully stage a loud conversation within earshot of the Dean, and “more than ninety percent of the time he’ll come over and we’ll hit it right off,” he calculates.

Bradford claims he won over one Dean by announcing that his favorite baseball player was the back-up Kansas City Royals’ shortstop Luis Hernandez. “I saw him buy a poster of him at Walmart the day before,” Bradford admitted sheepishly. The Dean sidled over and began a conversation about baseball. When Bradford pulled out Hernandez’ signed rookie card from his pocket and gave it to the Dean as a gift, the Dean wept with joy and swore an oath to ensure Bradford’s acceptance in the university.

Senior Janet Willard claims that her strategy will enable her to secure a spot in any school in the world. “I’ve memorized 19 school anthems,” Willard proudly told us. “I know the tunes, the lyrics, even the dates they were written!” So far, Willard has attended seventeen open houses. “What I do,” she elaborated, “is casually walk by the College president wherever I am, humming that particular school anthem. Sometimes I’ll even sing it under my breath! Anyways, at thirteen of the seventeen open houses that I’ve attended, I’ve been stopped and asked how I know the song!”

Willard generally responds to their questions by saying that she had dreamed of attending their school ever since she was a tiny girl, and had obsessively learned everything there was to know about it. She even lets it slip that the school song is on her top ten “Most Played Songs” on her iPod. “Janet has twelve interviews and one guaranteed acceptance, thanks to her knowing those anthems!” her mother, Mrs. Willard, told us. “She’s such a bright girl.”

Franklin Pelham, who will graduate this year, has taken a more desperate approach towards winning the hearts of those with influence. “Last Saturday, I had my cousin put on a mask and steal the purse off this lady who I knew worked in admissions at my top school. Anyway, we had it all planned out—he snatched the purse and I chased him down the street and caught him and we pretended to fight, and then he dropped the purse and ran. I staggered back to the lady with a little fake blood trickling down my cheek, and I returned the purse—she was so happy, she cried!”

Franklin proceeded to walk her home, and as he told her the story of his life, mentioned his top choice school. “Her face lit up so bad I thought I’d go blind,” remembers Franklin. “She told me she worked there and would get me in if it was the last thing she ever did! I gave her my name and number and everything, and just yesterday I got a call. I’m in!”

Yet another strategy, which senior Jessica Pollock, a D-student, claims to use on every application she’s ever filled out, is the “make stuff up” technique. “I wrote about how I’ve climbed Mount Everest every year since I was four, for one college essay,” she bragged. “My other one was about Barack Obama being my father.” According to her Common Application, she scored a 2410 on the SAT. When we asked her if she was worried about being found out, Pollock stared back blankly. “How would they ever find out?”

While taking the SAT nine times, along with maintaining A’s and B’s may indeed help your chances of getting into college, “taking the original approaches towards securing a spot in the college you want shows creativity and originality,” believes Mrs. Willard. “Anyone can get good grades,” argues Bradford. “But I can win hearts.”

The Farcicals is WSPN’s weekly humor blog, written alternately by seniors Sam Bagel and Gifford Delle.

Treat your Pokémon with kindness. You may be asking yourself, why are Pokémon such great companions? Well, that’s a terrific question. Pokémon are eternally loyal, and will always stay by your side if you treat them properly. Actually, unless you’re that jerk Gary, chances are your Pokémon are going to love you.

When training your own Pokémon, you must always treat them with kindness. An angry Pokémon will usually become resistant and end up stuffing itself in its pokeball for the duration of battles. It’s also important to keep an open mind. Try to think about what you both have in common: “Hmmm, well, we both enjoy the occasional rare candy, we both live for the thrill of victory following battle….” The emotions of a Pokémon are quite similar to your own when you think about it.

Always be resourceful. My resourcefulness as a Pokémon trainer was crucial the day I captured my very first Poliwag. I had been playing for several days trying to “Catch ‘em All,” as the theme song states. I probably remember this day so well because I had begun to smell after so much non-stop action. Pokémon should ALWAYS take precedence over hygiene.

Anyway, I had stumbled into a thick patch of grass in a coastal region near Cerulean City. For some reason, Pokémon love those patches of grass — go figure. Suddenly, “A wild Poliwag appears!” came up on the screen. My heart thumped with anticipation of the battle ahead.

Instantly, I knew that this little tadpole would be a perfect addition to my team of pocket monsters, but in its fragile state I did not want to injure it in my attempted capture. It was necessary to use the resources I had to catch Poliwag. I whipped out my trusty Jigglypuff and put it to sleep with the handy “Sing” move. This ensured no harm came to Poliwag and at the same time made him a lot easier to capture. My collection had grown one pokémon stronger that day because of my resourcefulness.

Don’t get too cocky! It’s important to retain a humble stance as a trainer. If you are on a victory streak, don’t let it go to your head. Your Pokémon are by no means invincible; they can faint. After I started leveling up my Poliwag, I learned the faults of being a cocky trainer. Poliwag and I would purposely face rock trainers to gain an upper edge. (Everyone knows, water beats rock.) Oh, how we used to laugh as we dealt out critical hits to Geodudes and Onyxs.

We kicked some dust in the face of Pewter City gym leader Brock as he wept like a baby following a demoralizing loss to Poliwag. Our cocky nature was foolish. We strutted about Pallet Town like we were the toughest cats around. Our victory had blinded us to the battles ahead, and when we faced off against Misty it just wasn’t pretty. Poliwag was destroyed by everything Misty threw at us. It was one of the most shameful moments of my poke-career. So don’t be like Poliwag and me; be humble and accept victory by a shake of the hand or tip of the cap.

It can be a tough road out there when you are trying to become a Pokémon master. If you have faith in the skills of your Pokémon it will be a lot easier to acquire all one hundred fifty of these fuzzy little pocket monsters, but still, always be cautious and take these tips to heart.

]]> http://waylandstudentpress.com/2009/10/20/pokemon-deep-within-the-pokedex/feed/ 11 http://waylandstudentpress.com/2009/09/10/town-selectman-declares-war-on-roadkill/ http://waylandstudentpress.com/2009/09/10/town-selectman-declares-war-on-roadkill/#comments Fri, 11 Sep 2009 01:39:13 +0000 Sam Boegehold http://waylandstudentpress.com/?p=7873

Introducing…The Farcicals! A weekly humor blog by seniors Sam Boegehold and Gifford Delle, The Farcicals will be your tonic for the school week. Now, with no further ado, we present for your enjoyment their first post, by Mr. Boegehold himself.

WAYLAND- This past week, Wayland residents have witnessed what scientists label “a biological phenomenon,” holy men identify as “the resurrection of the dead,” and songwriter John Lennon himself would simply call “Instant Karma.” Rising from their shallow and impersonal asphalt graves, skunks, raccoons, and squirrels have returned from the dead to seek revenge for their untimely deaths and wreak havoc in the otherwise uneventful town of Wayland.

Janet Winthrop, a Wayland resident of fifty-six years, called police yesterday and reported a mangled squirrel floating mysteriously about her lawn. Officers approached cautiously, prepared for an ugly scene.

“It sure was weird,” one officer, who wishes to remain anonymous, remembers. “No one really knew what to do at first, but after a minute some idiot tried the classic ‘you’re under arrest you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you.’ Next thing you know he’s hit full on in the face by a barrage of acorns. Whatever these things are, they mean business.” Several deformed raccoons and skunks came to the squirrels aid shortly afterward, and police scattered, leaving the roadkill to methodically destroy the remainder of Winthrop’s garden.

“It tore down my sunflower plants, chewed the birdhouse little Jimmy made in woodworking class to pieces, and positively destroyed the rosebush,” said Winthrop, in tears. “Not to mention scratching half the paint off of my husband’s new car. He’s absolutely furious. ”

Dozens of attacks similar to the one in Winthrop’s yard have been reported throughout the week. Waylander Sue Doran called police Wednesday, complaining that five raccoons were trampling her geraniums. By the time police arrived, the culprits had made their escape, but not after pulling down the clothesline and smashing her garden gnomes. “My mother is going to kill me,” wailed Doran. “Those had been in my family for five generations.”

Car tires and convertible roofs have been chewed through, motorists sprayed by skunks, bushes demolished, and even a small peach tree has vanished, among other atrocities.

Local authorities held a town meeting Thursday to discuss the issue, and multiple solutions were considered.

“Best let it be,” said Jack Harrison, who attended the meeting. Harrison, an avid hunter who moved to Wayland from Vermont just last month, boasts dozens of carefully stuffed and preserved heads above his mantelpiece. “I say if we tried to fix the situation, we’d just be interfering with Mother Nature. I’m sure survival of the strongest or whatever it was that Darwin guy said will kick in pretty soon, and the whole thing’ll sort itself out. Besides, I’d like to catch one of ‘em trying to mess up my wife’s garden.”

But when retired biology teacher Anne Moore explained to him that “whatever it was that Darwin guy said” does not actually apply to dead animals, Harrison had no more to say.

Although the majority of the town did not share Harrison’s willingness to coexist with dead animals in everyday life until the matter “sorts itself out,” several admitted that they might just have to let it go away on its own. Suggestions ranged from the the creation of an “Adopt a Roadkill” program to setting aside a designated “Forest of the Dead” behind the Payne estate.

But Selectman and lifelong resident Frank Bennett would not stand for it. “I am a good friend of Sue Doran’s, and the behavior of these creatures is intolerable. Do you really believe that we should put the past behind us and forgive them for their actions? That we should offer them shelter in our very town, our very homes?  As the rest of those assembled sat still and waited with baited breath for an answer to Bennett’s great rhetorical question, he pounded his fist urgently on the table. “This means war! We need to assemble an army. An army of exterminators that will rid our once comfortable and peaceful town of these miserable little varmints.”

“Huzzah!”’ and “here here!”’ echoed about the room, and Bennett received claps on the back and a standing ovation, but the festive moment was short-lived. All grew somber, as screams and screeches from the parking lot reached their ears, and the scampering and scraping of little claws down the hall became more pronounced.

Bennett was already at his post atop the desk, calling out orders. “To the windows, men! Stand your ground!”

The war has begun.