Last Friday, Head of the Upper School Dana Kooistra announced in an email to all students that going forward, clubs would no longer be provided with funds to buy food or refreshments for club meetings and events.
Words can scarcely describe the chaos that ensued.
Long drawn by the allure of greasy pizza slices and overbaked chocolate chip cookies, and many of them guided by Mrs. Sickler’s philosophy of “earning back your tuition with free hot dogs”, students suddenly found themselves lacking any motivation to participate in any of Winchester Thurston’s many student organizations. The effect of this policy change varied greatly.
The response of myself and the other editor of Voices, Dagny, was something along the lines of “We had a food budget? Since when?” However, after some thought, it did occur to us that during our freshman year, our dear editors Daniel and Ben did order some pizza-pies on several occasions. It did also occur to us that the subsequent drop in our membership might possibly have something to do with our recent lack of edible delights. For better or for worse, we are somewhat insulated from the effects of this change.
The Science Olympiad team responded in a fittingly practical manner: by simply stealing food from the Middle School team, and by entreating Adrian’s mom to please make more of her famed Zebrakuchen. It is often said (by me, anyways) that the zebrakuchen is the very life blood of the Science Olympiad team, and once Adrian finally translates the recipe for me (I cannot, as it happens, read Polish), our supply of food will truly be endless. Beware.
Investment Club chose to liquidate a few of their choicest assets to invest in Domino’s Pizza Inc. In a written letter to the company, they demanded that hereafter, they should receive their dividends in the form of extra-large pepperoni pizzas with a side of parmesan bites. Rocketry Club announced that they would redouble their efforts to make it to the moon, for, as all well informed readers will know, the moon is sculpted from the finest gruyère. Red Cross club said that they are looking into becoming vampires, and on what they assured me was a completely unrelated note, that all future blood drives will occur under conditions of complete darkness.
When I reached out to Climate Changers, leadership informed me that the contract I signed to provide cookies for their photo contest also included the additional stipulation that I am henceforth and eternally required to provide them with weekly deliveries of baguettes, croissants, and cookies. Now that I think about it, it was kinda strange that they had me sign the contract with my own blood. Mock Trial refused to provide me with any legal help, not that that would be much help anyways — despite what MG claims, I am convinced that Mock Trial is an exercise in script reading. Mock Trial did also send a cease and desist letter to Mrs. Koistra, arguing that the denial of food funds was a violation of their civil rights (several clubs also filed amicus briefs). Spork Court will consider their motion for an injunction on the order next week.
At last we come to Plaid, rumored to have a pizza budget stretching into the thousands of dollars. An anonymous source who professes to be “high up in the echelons of Winchester Thurston’s best club, Plaid! [sic: everybody knows that’s not true]” told Voices that Plaid’s membership had been immediately been cut in half, and that even many junior editors had stopped work on the forthcoming edition of Plaid, SOMA. “Even the editors were only there for the food! Now, we aren’t even sure we’ll finish in time. Oh, me? Yeah… Plaid and I might soon be parting ways… if you catch my drift…”
Unfortunately, I was unable to finish the interview with said anonymous source, for when they noticed a piece of candy lying on the sidewalk outside the window, risking life and limb, they immediately self-defenestrated out the window to gobble up the parentless morsel. Truly, a naïve visitor might get the impression that our droves of hungry teenagers were actually starving, rather than simply possessing an astounding desire for anything free.
Just as soon as their stomachs lost any last hope of free morsels of saturated fat, ultra-processed carbohydrates, and medically dubious food dyes, the minds of many students lost any notion of why they had ever participated in clubs in the first place. For many students, its sparked a bit of a self-identity crisis. “Why did I go to all those Plaid readings, anyways?” many could be heard asking themselves in the hall. “I could’ve been studying for the Calculus test I had next week!”
Just kidding. Absolutely no one said that.
First of all, how absurd would it be to start studying for a test an entire week in advance? No self-respecting WT student would possibly engage in such a foolish practice: the correct procedure is to wait until the night before the test, then to send a bunch of frantic emails to the teacher complaining about how they don’t understand the material and how they didn’t have enough time to study, hoping to convince the teacher to move the test back another week. Failing that (and failing the test), the student then begs for a retake, for any test that they didn’t do well on must surely be unfair.
I’m sorry, did I digress? Oh yes I did, and I don’t care. Just try and come at me, my fellow student! Like Hippomenes, I shall throw my golden apples (stale pizza crusts) in all manner of disparate directions, and like Atalanta, you shall have no choice but to obey your base instinct to chase after them and scarf down every last crumb! By which time, I will have retreated to the newly constructed Voices editor lounge, located conveniently in the retrofitted back room of the now-defunct building next to the Davis Center.
Where was I? Oh yes, about the Plaid readings: the other reason no one ever said “that” [see above] is that few of those who partook in club food actually ever stayed very long. Astute observers of the Plaid Coffeehouse events might have noticed that many who munched on cookies or sipped paper cups of coffee flavored creamer — “Jeez, Mandy, why does my coffee taste so much like coffee? Ugh!” — did not even stay past the first poem. Is this theft (yes, in my eyes it is a form of immoral dishonesty: everyone who does this is morally reprehensible)? Or is this merely preparation for the real world?
Perhaps the most compelling case to reinstate funding for club refreshments is that they prepare students for the real world, a dog-eat-hotdog world where one must believe in the myth of the free lunch, a world where one must ruthlessly seize every opportunity to profit from their employer overlords. Every so-soft-it-can’t-really-be-called-a-bagel-but-I’m-eating-it-anyways-because-it’s-free-hey-by-the-way-could-you-please-pass-the-strawberry-cream-cheese? is another victory against our capitalist overlords.
By the way, just where are the funds formerly allocated to club food now diverted to?
Mrs. Kooistra didn’t offer any details, but it has been reported that members of the boys soccer team are now sporting 18 karat gold championship rings (even though they didn’t win this year). Truly, a welcome windfall for a clearly cash-struggling organization.
