David Coleman Exposed: How He Became the Villain He Is Today
Reading Time: 4 minutes
Oh yes, the College Board. The author behind at least half of the content in our junk folder, the devil on our shoulder whispering at us to take more APs. The College Board that all high school students have an innate hatred for, the College Board that our AP World History class spent an entire Harkness discussion bashing instead of talking about the Silk Road like we were supposed to. A “non-profit” organization?! Ha! More like “for-profit”! But how did this corruption begin? All the DBQs, LEQs, FRQs? The $97 AP tests? It all started with one man named David Coleman…
All evil is learned, and David Coleman is no exception. He wasn’t always the conniving capitalist he is today. A long time ago, in the 1980s, he was one of us: a humble Stuyvesant student. He ate the same questionable cafeteria food, cried over the same physics tests, and graduated with the same psychological scars. He was quiet and remained largely unremarkable, which prompts the question—where did it all go wrong?
It was a regular school day in the 1980s. Coleman was running late to class. Being a typical freshman, he ran down the hallways, bumping into everyone in his attempt to reach class on time. He crashed into a group of juniors talking in the hallway and heard them mutter something under their breath, glaring at him menacingly. “Beg my pardon, but what did you just say?” Coleman snarled in what he hoped was a tough voice. The juniors turned to each other, smirking. “Ur mom,” they replied in unison. Coleman’s face contorted in shock, and the juniors laughed. “How—how dare you! My mother is a good woman! Do not speak of her in such a manner!” One of the juniors raised an eyebrow. “It’s too late to stop me now. I’ve already spoken to your mother on numerous occasions! I’ll have her rizzed up in no time.” His posse laughed heartily. Another one of the juniors pushed Coleman down, and he fell to the ground, frozen in shock. They mocked him for his ugly ‘80s hairdo, for wearing his gym uniform outside of class, and for being too afraid to do anything as they berated him. Suddenly, the late bell for class rang, and Coleman was shocked into action. He couldn’t be late for class! With newfound freshman strength, he scrambled his way off the ground and ran to class, the laughs of the juniors ringing in his ears.
Coleman was frightened. How could they say such mean things? What was so wrong with those juniors that made them such monsters? That fear turned to sadness, and that sadness turned to rage. He would get his revenge on those juniors, and everyone who said anything about his mother! He was filled with a burning hatred for those juniors—no, forget just the juniors, everyone at Stuyvesant—and wracked his mind thinking of ways to get back at that cursed institution. What could he do? What was a Stuyvesant student’s worst nightmare? Touching grass? Failing a test? Deodorant?
Failing a test! That’s it! He could administer tests—no, control them. Monopolize them! His new goal: grow up and inflict suffering upon every single future Stuyvesant student through academic agony. He would become a testing mogul—and not just any testing mogul. He would go for the biggest and baddest test of them all: the SAT. No, the APs! The SATs AND the APs! He would take over the College Board!
Thus, Coleman had a new goal in life: to rise to the top of the College Board, manage virtually every major exam that Stuyvesant students would ever face, and ultimately get his revenge on this accursed school.
SEVERAL DECADES LATER
Now, we return to the present day, 2023, when David Coleman’s masterful revenge is in full swing, stronger than ever before. What better way to celebrate than to return to the beginning, celebrating your revenge in its birthplace? He took the Junior Caucus’s foolish invite and traveled back to Stuyvesant one more time. Standing in front of the lecture hall, he watched dejected members of the student body file past him, shoulders weighed down by their schoolwork and the disappointment of their parents. He caught snippets of their conversations as they floated by:
“I had a dream last night and literally saw, like, APUSH timelines and important documents in my sleep. Yeah, I woke up crying. It was rough.”
“Ugh, I bombed my SAT! Do you think if I mug enough people on the subway, I can get enough money to pay for another one?”
“Yo, if I get run over by a truck, I don’t have to take my AP Bio exam. You want to go stand in traffic with me?”
Coleman heard the students’ agony and dozens of more painful stories. He saw the dead eyes of the students staring at him, brimming with tears. He couldn’t help but laugh at them, knowing that he had won.
Thus ends the story of David Coleman, whose reign of terror still dominates Stuyvesant today. As another AP season approaches, we can do nothing to stop the inexorable advancement of tattered dreams and threats of disownment.
*Note to College Board: haha we’re just joking, we promise. Please don’t make us fail our APs—we still love you guys <3