The Griffin Chronicle

Dear Highschoolers, learn how to walk

An+impatient+student+waits+for+a+slow+walker+to+move.
An impatient student waits for a slow walker to move.

An impatient student waits for a slow walker to move.

An impatient student waits for a slow walker to move.

Rylee Burchett, Staff Writer

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For some unfathomable reason, there’s something about being in high school that makes students want to be the worst possible walkers you have ever encountered.

Why is it that when I’m trying to get to my furthest, most unforgiving class, I somehow seem to always be the target of a large cluster of mouth-breathing, flower-picking teenagers? They walk at the pace one would if they were trying to let a snail win in a 100 yard dash to save its feelings. It feels as if I’m the subject of some horrible cosmic prank designed specifically to make my high school experience the worst that it can possibly be.

Why are you walking so slow? Why is it that whenever I try to get around you, SOMEHOW you manage to move in precisely the same way that I am, so that I’m eternally trapped behind you? Do you love to watch your peers suffer? Do you love to watch me suffer?

I must’ve slaughtered millions of impoverished villages in a terrible passion in at least 32 past lives to deserve the fate that I currently endure. An eternity, unwillingly shadowing some troglodyte as I anticipate the impending punctuality lecture that I’m sure to receive the moment I set foot into a classroom that I didn’t want to be in in the first place. I just don’t understand why the universe insists on punishing me every single time the bell rings. At this rate I’m going to start waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, reflexively trying to shoulder my way through the telltale scent of adolescent sweat and Axe body spray.

So, please, before it gets to that point, be conscious of your peers. Be conscious of me, because you never know when someone is at the point of anger in which they will just trample over you in a sudden fit of white hot fury. In the end, we’re all just trying to get to class on time. Stay conscious, Los Al.

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