Invasion of the Elementary Schoolers

Reading Time: 3 minutes

Issue 16, Volume 112

By Gabriella Hoefner 

It’s a Friday afternoon, and you and your friends have decided to hang out after school. It’s your first time seeing the sun in weeks, and with only three hours of homework this weekend, it seems as though things couldn’t be more perfect. You walk into Whole Foods and stop dead in your tracks. Sitting in the bakery section is a toddler surrounded by empty muffin trays. She looks you dead in the eyes as she shoves three vegan muffins into her mouth at once. You slowly back out of the store in horror, trying to wrap your brain around what you’ve just seen.

Shockingly enough, many Stuyvesant students have taken note of the alarming amount of children aged four to 11 found near the school grounds following dismissal. But where are they coming from? Are they an invasive species? Spies sent by the government? A disastrous side effect of global warming? While we may never truly know the answer to this question, many students point to a puzzling, absurd answer: these children are coming from the elementary schools near Stuyvesant.

“Obviously I knew it was there,” one senior noted, “I mean, it’s right across the street. But I guess I had never really registered that it was, like, a school that actual children go to. So you can imagine my surprise when I went to Ferry’s and was greeted by the high-pitched whining of a seven-year-old as they begged their mom for an entire box of Kinder Surprise Eggs.”

Freshman Adeline Sauberli relayed a particularly scarring experience in which she tried to get frozen yogurt only to find the shop overtaken by kindergarteners topping their dairy treats with the latest COVID variant. “While I was waiting in line, there was this one kid who just wouldn’t stop coughing. I mean, there was something seriously wrong with him,” Sauberli noted, recalling the event with great horror. “I could practically see the COVID in the air. And then I couldn’t even eat my yogurt on the choo-choo train benches because they were full of little kids, though I guess I should've known what I was getting into when I decided to go to Downtown Yogurt instead of 16 Handles.”

Several students have also complained about a cult-like group of fourth-grade boys who can regularly be found underneath the Tribeca Bridge. With their nerf gun battles and constant attempts to be “savage” (as the kids would say), they have been classified as public enemies to anyone in the area. One victim reported, “I was just hanging out there with my friends after school when this ten-year-old with a Minecraft T-shirt and a 3DS approached me and asked, ‘Why are you so ugly?’ It really took a toll on my self-esteem, and I cried for the rest of the day.”

It has become clear that these children pose a threat to the mental, emotional, and physical health of Stuyvesant students. There’s just nowhere for high schoolers to catch a break without encountering at least one baby carriage. My advice? Next time you see one of the cruel, obnoxious, germ-ridden, short, vile brats invading your favorite park or ripping up the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books at Barnes & Noble, present them with a peace offering to get them to leave you alone. Recommended offerings include, but are not limited to, candy, “fidget toys,” goldfish crackers, your phone, Flintstones gummy vitamins, a crumpled-up dollar bill, or a half-eaten pack of gum.

If the kid somehow refuses your gifts and continues to pester you, simply kick their shins and run away before they unleash a series of deafening wails (don’t worry, they’re only pretending to cry as a form of manipulation). You may end up on their parents’ death list, but your brain cells will thank you.