Princess Margaret's Regal Calm

If one were to zero in on any streetside newsstand, close their eyes and choose one version of the day's tidings, what would they find? Chances are the front cover would include a bold-printed call to arms, whose headline is so distressing that it goads the reader to disgustedly throw his or her arms in the air, and curse the harrowing conditions of Canadian society. No visceral topic is safe from the hate-mongering newsmakers, whether it be the environment, the government or most recently, the perils deep within the recesses of a typical high school.
Often spearheading this most current anti-bullying movement is an undoubtedly tragic story of a student, whose experience as a high school outcast drove them take fatal measures. Nearly every media outlet pitch in their two-cents on the issue of teen bullying by blowing the original story out of proportion, and unloading the blame onto any facet of the high school experience. Some urge that the teachers aren't doing enough. Others say that the administration's at fault, or that the schools are too cramped. Heck, it won't be long until the schools' color schemes receive some flak. In the midst of the scare tacticians' ploy to inflame the helicopter parent's ire for $3.29 per issue, is there at least one school that triumphantly shakes off the notion that all Canadian high schools are god-forsaken grottoes riddled with heavy-handed grunts?

Meanwhile, in sleepy Penticton, British Columbia, a grey-bricked building of modest size opens its doors for the upcoming day. The Okanagan sun pierces through both panes of the westerly windows, blanketing the quaint common area with an ethereal glow, much akin to the sanguine atmosphere that the school already posesses. Granted, Princess Margaret Secondary School isn't perfect. Its sport teams aren't the best in the area, certain wings of the aging building are certainly due for some sprucing up, and with approximately 750 students, it isn't an institution of high prestige. However, this high school is unique because of its sense of community. Even though Maggie caters to any budding athlete, scholar, thespian or artist, it is largely bereft of social cliques and hostility.
Bullying and school violence is seldom at the forefront of students' minds here. A smaller population allows for a more lax social atmosphere and burgeoning school spirit, both of which make Princess Margaret more inclusive. A supportive counselling center coupled with two dedicated, action-ready pricipals make up the one-two punch against potential rabble-rousers. Even when student discipline becomes an issue,the staff at Princess Margaret refuse to hurl mea culpas at one another, simply because it is inefficient and irresponsible. Frankly, this finely-tuned balance of staff involvement and student leadership seems to be working, as Maggie's community is as tightly-knit as Grandma's woolen socks.

Application: Accepted!

I'd like to extend a hearty congratulations to you, University of Van Camp, because after a tedious and painstaking evaluation of every learning instisution this side of Ursa Major, you have been accepted to house the burgeoning polymath that is Matthew R. Gomez. You should be truly honored.

Traditionally, His Faultlessness would deliver the newly-admitted school, using his spit-polished pennyfarthing, a 16-volume historical odyssey that details the past accolades of yours truly. However, in lieu of reading the greatest epic this side of 0 A.D. , I can instead give you a crash-course lesson on past accomlishments, and what you can expect from me whilst studying at UVC. Time is scarce until my forthcoming arrival, so succinct I must be!

Well, long story short, I single-handedly proved that the alchemy movement was not in vain, and stumbled across cold fusion shortly afterwards. Long story short, King Arthur stole my junior high metalwork project, Excalibur. Long story short, bullying Genghis Khan in elementary school was a bad idea. Long story short, the Neanderthal's wheel was modeled after my belly button. I created funk. I am a prolific speaker of Gobbledygook. And greatest of all, phrem saskto qazaqa mon wez wez!

I look forward to hearing back from the University of Van Camp. After your fee has been securely wired into my account, it'd be my pleasure to attend this fall. In preparation of my residence, the following must be taken into account: All of my professors must be of royal blood (Norwegian monarchy, of course). I'm not the fondest of creamed corn, but I don't mind it either. I require a wadrobe composed entirely of the Mahatma's finest robes, and I like my eggs faberge'd. That is all, and once again, congratulations!

"Pursue lunacy, think whimsically, go hard."
Matthew R. Gomez

Hallway Culture

After spending 88 serene minutes ensconced in my dearest schoolwork, the bell rings and for the next eleven minutes, I am engrossed in the experience I call hallway culture. While I try to meekly abscond to my next lesson, I'm met with the many different members of the corridors' hierarchy, almost all of whom contribute to the hallway's chaotic ambience. A seemingly short walk is lengthened many-fold by circle-groups, "walk-and text"ers, and conversing pairs. Their ostensible social prowess somehow warrants them the right to impede anguished souls such as myself. Nevertheless, my most unpleasant, re-occuring hallway ritual is the "one-on-one shimmy showdown". An almost daily occurence for me, this stand-off takes place as I make my way down an empty hall, except for one other oncoming person. As I try to avoid the head-on collision, I step to one side, only to find out that my counterpart has done the same. Presumably a defensive linebacker in another life, my opposite blocks my path once again, when I try the other direction. For a few excruciating seconds, we repeat the routine, wobbling side-to-side like two awkward dancers caught in suspended animation. The cycle can only be broken when I admit defeat and stand motionless, allowing my now-rival to scowl at my indecisiveness as he storms by me. Like a misprinted shampoo bottle, my survival in hallway culture can be attributed to three simple steps: waver, wince and repeat.