I love the smell of bullshit in the morning. As I escorted myself to the cafeteria for election speeches, it hit me. Just as I opened the doors, in fact. Just in time to see the candidates. Before we go into that, let us look at the opening comments. I, myself, had beautiful seats for the spectacle. I could see the crooked smiles of the candidates, AND I could hear all the comments from the peanut gallery behind me. When the MC got on the mic, it was all over. I have never laughed for so long continuously. Mostly in disbelieve for what was being said. First off, students must now buy their democratic rights from the student council. Yes, it’s true. Apparently, the only people who care for the school are the ones who buy a student card. I hope I never need artificial respiration, because I’d hate to forget my student card that day. Wouldn’t my face be red! Yes, we’ve regressed back to the days where only the rich had a voice, and the plebeians were forced to run around the cities stealing as much as they could until they were caught and subsequently had there hands cut off. This can all be traced back to the "new math" (issue #1), except a couple more variables have been added. It is now more like a word equation: "If student X has thirty bucks and wants a locker, and is traveling northbound at forty miles an hour, and student council Y has control of lockers, the fundamental right to vote, and an airplane hangar full of unwanted yearbooks, how long until the entire system collapses?". Don’t forget to carry the four.
As for the speeches themselves, they were pure gold. The first gent, Morgan, was the acclaimed social conveyor. No problem. This time, people knew they could run, not his fault, and I don’t blame him for that. The only problem I have is the fact that the wide spectrum of music he promised seemed to have a theme to it. More specifically, a thumping bass theme. Personally, it all sounds the same to me, but I’m sure the worshippers of electronic music think the same about what I listen to. How about instead of pleasing some of the people all of the time, we try and please all of the people some of the time? In the race for secretary, we had a choice. There was Jackie, an obviously nervous girl in a newsie hat that seemed to keep her from floating off the ground, and I firmly believe that her mother wrote her speech for her the night before. The other candidate, Nadine, was the only candidate who actually had lucid plans and ways of achieving them. This was the only category in which I didn’t have to figure out who I hated more. After that, there was a speech from the acclaimed treasurer, who, in the assembly I attended, was happy that she "conquered" the position. I’ll tell ya one thing, sister: that kind of thinking led Ghengis Khan, Napoleon and Hitler to the same type of fate. It’s a good thing we’re not in Italy, because I seem to recall Mussolini encountering a particularly rough exit.
Next came the senior vice-prep position, and it did not fail to please. It started off with Jenny Ho, who strutted around the stage like an infomercial host. I swear, at one point I thought she was going to break into a stirring rendition of "Superstar" by The Carpenters, the way she held the mike while staring lovingly into space. If I hear the words "school spirit" one more time, I’m going to find a speeding bus and act upon it with force. It was then three-ring circus time. As the words "George Gogos" were announced by the m.c., the cafeteria lit up with jeering and laughter, and the awesome "GEORGE!" cat-calls from the back seats. This circus actually began earlier in the week when George and his campaign manager (who is either new to the school, two hundred dollars richer, or both) went class to class asking for support. Special awards for worst speech, half of which was spent thanking his "posse", and loudest, most annoying speech, which was mainly due to the fact that he had to yell over all the pundits in the crowd. Not to mention the huge banner carried through the caf by his manager and Colin, who, I must say, is the coolest cat around, for sheer guts alone. And although we all also knew that the "G" signs around Woodlands meant "George", we could also tell that they didn’t mean "Good" either. Nice scam, though. There was also Mehedi, who at least admitted he was nervous. I voted for him.
With the conclusion of that melee, there was the job of presidency. Ooh, fun. This was a definite lesser-of-the-two-evils choice for myself. First, there was Chrissy D., who, in her illustrious high school political life, has rigged an election AND read a campaign speech by rapping it old school-style, guy. Speechwise, it was all school spirit this, here-is-my-resume that, and so on. Vu Quach was the other candidate, who I voted for because I don’t like Chrissy, and I love saying "VOO!". His speech was marred by a desperate cry for noise, which, when not received, forced him to one knee in a semi-spectacular Atlas pose.
In conclusion, I think I speak for the arms-folding majority when I say that at least we got to vote this year. Next year, well, I better get a second job if I want a ballot.
The election of a new student council executive brings with it a promise for great change. Students of the Woodlands are reassured in the knowledge that they have chosen the student government which will represent them for the next year. At first glance then, all would appear to be fine and dandy. However, if one looks beyond the empty pageantry of election, numerous problems with this system can still be seen.
Despite what the SAC may wish you to believe, there are several key differences between it and the democracy it purports to be. To illustrate this, one need look only to the sorry events of last year. The myth of the SAC as a democratic student government was shattered, as a small group of students took office uncontested. A wave of shock swept through the school, as the realisation was made that the council had become nothing more than an elite social club. This year, to the administration's credit, a much better job was done of publicising the election. What was not brought up, at least in time to be of any use, is a minor revision that has been made to the SAC constitution, if such a document does exist. Amongst the multitudes of Woodland's students carrying SAC cards, all were ineligible to run for office except a select few. This elite group is composed of: (a) The current executive who got their positions by rigging last year's election. (b) Home form representatives. (c) Volunteers council member, i.e. the executive's friends and family, whom they told about the rule changes when they neglected to tell the rest of us.
Essentially the SAC election has been reduced to a pointless game of musical chairs. All the council members get up and skip gaily in a big cliquey circle, and when the voting stops they all take a seat. While this ruse may be adequate to satisfy the indifferent masses, it does little to alleviate the view held by many students that the SAC is a corrupt, elitist group who do not represent the best interests of the student body. In fact, it is exactly this sort of political inbreeding that has left the SAC so out of touch with the rest of the school. The infusion of new perspectives and ideas that the SAC so desperately needs is hindered by these unnecessary regulations. To place such controls on potential candidates is to, in effect, tell the student body that they are not intelligent enough to select their own leaders. Not only is this totally unnecessary, it is also unfair. The hard earned money of the students of the Woodlands ( or their parents) makes the SAC possible, and the students should have more of a say in how this money is spent. True believers in the democratic system which the SAC claim to be, would not feel it necessary to control the election process so strictly. The more limited the number of potential candidates,the easier it is for a small group to retain control of the SAC. If nothing is done to drastically reform the election process, we might as well just ditch this whole farcical, bastardised democracy sham and give the executive lifetime positions. Should the government of the student body continue to be run as a dictatorship, we will have to stop kidding ourselves and acknowledge it as one. The SAC should represent the interests of the all students, not just an choice few.
In the wake of the recent anti-climactic SAC elections, some disenfranchised Woodlands students are looking elsewhere for leadership, and a place to have their opinions heard. The brand-spanking-new, government-mandated School Councils are not, however, a place where this is likely to happen.
In a desperate attempt to solicit community involvement, the Peel Board of Education is requiring that all its schools setup and maintain something called a School Council. This new council will consist primarily of parents and guardians (the rest of the seats being filled with a teacher, Norm, and a student representative), and play an advisory role in all aspects of the school including the school budget, the criteria in selection of principals, and extracurricular activities, to name a few. Zowee! That’s a lot of responsibility to lay on Mom and Dad, but apparently the Board thinks they can handle it.
The main hope for student participation in these councils would be through our student representative who, according to Peel Board policy #61, is “elected by the students”. So, one might ask, when do we get to choose our representative - the person who will voice all of our concerns to the Board through the new School Council? Surprise - you already have. In his usual, fingers-crossed-behind-the-back manner, Mr. Pirk, the principal with no principals, has plans to hand the position over to the SAC president (who took office in an election that excluded a significant part of the school - those smart enough not to buy student cards). I guess he forgot to mention that when we were filling out the ballots.
The fact that the students themselves are being shut out from these councils is the reason that the whole project is doomed to fail. Here at the Woodlands, that means continuing to be misrepresented by the SAC, in yet another forum - one which may actually have some power.
| This is a new column, dedicated to bringing good cheer and meriment to the student body! Yeah! For those of you who think that Woodlands students are a bunch of apathetic whiners, I’m going to dig up some GOOD STUFF, and SHINING MOMENTS that the Woodkids have to offer. This issue, I’ll interview Mike, who collected a ton of those “Pud” comics (from Double Bubble 5 cent gum), and actually sent them in to get his prize. In return, he recieved a rather heart-warming letter from Pud, and a beach ball which we discussed at length... | So, Mike, exactly how many comics did you send in? 200. Two hundred. That’s quite a lot. Yes. Did you actually chew all that gum? Yes. Well, what does the beachball look like? It’s white and round and says ‘Double Bubble’ on it. Do you play with it all the time? Yes |
Aaaah, Friday. The last day of the school week. The final test of strength before the Big Easy. Purgatory before heaven. Hunger before a cheeseburger. The hot asphalt walkway and splinter-inducing steps that lead up to the water slide. I'm strutting throughout the school, on my way to my period five, when my bladder sends me a short memo: "Dear brain. I will explode in two minutes, spilling my contents all over you. Find me a release in 120 seconds, or you become Social Leper of the Year. Yours truly, Mr. Bladder". Oh damn. Better find a washroom, fast. I race through the halls, thinking "This should be easy. I'm a male. No line-ups, no waiting. Just in and out. Here's a washroom now." As I line up for the final approach, I touch the door. With my face. WHACK!!. It's like one of those fake doors that Bugs Bunny always painted on the rock face for Wile E. Coyote to smack into. The door doesn't budge an inch. What the hell! Quickly, I wheel away, up the stairs to the second floor. Here's bathroom number two. Sweet relief, coming soon. BAM! Same story. Not open for business. Looking a little more frantic, I speed around the corner and down the stairs, looking for another W/C. Oh angel of mercy, have pity on my foolish peasant soul. Give me a sign. A sign that says "Boys" on it. There's one now. In I go. THUD! Not again! I swear I tasted paint that time. I am reduced to a mindless automaton, a creature incapable
of higher thought. My crocodile brain guides me down by the drama wing. Finally, I meet with success.
After I get out, I ponder: Why are all these washrooms closed? Mr. Pirk clears that one up. It seems that some amateur artists/plumbers were decorating the walls (and floor) of the washrooms with their unique brand of self-expression: stupid ape graffiti. I sometimes wonder what future archeologists will think of our society when they unearth a piece of cinderblock with "White boys suck my....." on it. It seems that the administration thinks that closing washrooms will eliminate problems with graffitti and flooding. Maybe they think that the scribblers will quit when their favorite canvas is shut down. Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Instead of addressing a problem, they simply shut down the affected areas, hoping that the punks will shrug their shoulders and say "That sure showed me. The administration means business. I'll never wield a marker or papertowel in anger again." Yeah, right. The amateur Michaelangelos/Luigis will just move on, continuing to write their brainless drivel and plug the innocent sink drains of the next washroom, until the boys will have no place to pee. If I were them, I would talk to the police or put crimestoppers on the case. There has to be a better solution than simply to lock the doors. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go. I think my back teeth are floating.
Corrections for Issue #4 |
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