Archived News Item

Twelve Tips

1. Pencils and pens are to be hoarded like dragon’s gold. Pencils are for math. Pens are for otherwise. Else, your preference is for otherwise, but All the Cool Kids are using pens.
2. The finest of all calculator games may be named Falldown. Fallup is the equivalent form for those who like to buck trends (such as gravity). Tetris is the thinking man’s version of the reflex-intensive Falldown.

   Falldown can be said to build dynamic reactions. Tetris will strengthen your sense for patterns. Phoenix is mindless and repetitive without any vestige of useful skill-building. Mario is simply sophomoric.

3. Carry extra batteries. Your calculator needs them. So does your CD player. Even if you don’t use them, you can sell them for exorbitant prices when others find themselves in need. For some, the only thing worse than a period of History without something to do is self-flagellation via a string of caterpillar intestines.
4. Check your email with this.
5. Spend one class period a day asking your verbally opinionated teacher with a penchant for off-topic rants to provide evidence for every one of his claims. Cringe and wail if they try to escape with “... it’s just a fact.” Extra points if you can get them to call you a right-wing bastard capitalist pig.
6. Whatever your opinion on the armed services, you would be well to adopt their views on two things: Food and Sleep. Namely, get them down when you can, because you might not get another chance. And you need those things.
7. Yes, I know you’re not tired. But you will be in the morning. And you will be in 5th period.
8. If you have any intention of eating at one of the local food vendors, you must be like a cat. Do not linger. Do not stop. Be out of the door to your class before the bell stops ringing and describe a direct line to the gates. Join with your friends, but do not go out of your way to meet them — you’ll arrive together anyway. You must spring, converge, and fly like a gasoline-powered eagle. If you hesitate, you will be ensnared in the torrents of escaping studentry.

   Remember, stoplights are the ultimate levelers, and your natural enemy; if you get hung up on an intersection, the entire graduating class of ’02–’05 will pile up behind you.

   Never stop. At best, you are half a block ahead of the flood. Ride the event horizon like the curling water at the edge of a wave, just out of its reach.

9. Every minute of homework you do not take care of in class is another minute you’ll have to do at home. Either that or it’s another minute that’s not going to get done. Socialize and work in harmonious tandem, but do them both.
10. If the teacher hasn’t started talking yet, you aren’t late. Be sure to tell them I said that.
11. [Amount of items left at home] is inversely proportional to [pain in back]. Mix and match depending on mood.
12. Do not taunt the happy fun security officers.

Today was a minimum day. It was not in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. It was for “collaboration,” which means it’s one of the quarterly events that was granted to the teacher’s union during the struggle over contracts.

It would have been really cool to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, though.

Taking an AP course currently? First, you’re an intellectual masochist; second, you need to sign up to take the AP test. Don’t even think of weaseling out of it. An AP class without an AP test is like studying for summer break.

The text costs $80, which must be paid in the form of a cashier’s check or a money order, and no, cash would be a really bad idea. So would a personal check. Gold bullion is your call.

For more information and for the sign-up dates, read this. [shamelessly lifted from the e-tree]

The reason the site was voiceless for so long is because I have a life, too. Alas.

— Brandon