The APs Stand For Academic Purgatory
Reading Time: 3 minutes
With AP season over, the stress of the past weeks, months, and centuries, even (contrary to popular belief, Stuyvesant students are all vampires, and we all have the same level of melodrama as Edward Cullen), can finally dissipate as the student body throws away all their #2 pencils for good. But if there’s one thing you learn from attending this school, it’s that stress is the only constant factor, right above a consistent lack of sleep. The AP tests themselves are over, but until scores are released, the pressure’s still on. It’s the make-or-break moment—after all, the school’s motto IS, “Academic Validation Is Your New Dad,” or… something along those lines. The people who take Latin won’t bother to tell us. And everything seemed to be going pretty well, until this e-mail was released:
Dear Stuyvesant families,
New information released by the Department of Education has confirmed that this year’s Advanced Placement exams will be scored based on a new rubric determined and established by the minimum-wage-earning, high-school-hating employees working at McDonald’s. All AP tests will be graded based on extremely important and relevant factors such as handwriting, favorite color, and zodiac sign. If you have concerns about this new course of action, the College Board has encouraged you to email 1800-NOBODYWILLANSWER-THISISNTEVENANEMAILADDRESS-WOOFBARKBARKDOTCOM.
Sent from My Apple Fridge.
This new rubric has sparked controversy and debate within the Stuyvesant community, especially after the DOE reported burning all of the DBQ essays because they were “taking up too much of the space that is used to store the iCarly fanfiction.” Hence, we sent our trusted reporters to interview those most affected by the scandal. Here are correspondents Bob TheSlightlyShorterBuilder, Mulk, and Diana ThreeFrogsInATrenchcoat Smith.
“So, what happened?” we asked.
“I- they failed me because the horoscope said that Pisces were in store for financial struggle? I just lost my scholarship and now I don’t know what to do!” TheSlightlyShorterBuilder said.
“Oh, well that’s too bad. Water signs don’t deserve a higher education anyways.”
“I got a five and a shooting star sticker? They told me it wasn’t because I did well on the exam, but because my brother got a legendary in Pokémon GO? I mean, I thought that was popular in 2016…” Mulk said, confused.
“Don’t you DARE insult Pokémon GO!” our reporter furiously replied.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“So what legendary did he get? Was it Kyogre?”
“Do you even go to this school? And why do you have a fake goatee covering your real goatee? Wait, don’t—why are you running away?”
“I mean… They didn’t even give me a grade? When I checked my score report on the College Board website, all it said was 41°24'12.2"N 2°10'26.5"E, August 14, 2043. I’m not sure if this will count on my college applications?”
“Dude, I feel like you’re not freaking out enough about the death threat,” our reporter replied.
“I don’t think it’s necessarily a death threat! I mean, it could be, like, the place and day I get married or something like that.”
“These are literally the coordinates to a dark alleyway behind an opera. Are you… do you have any association with Batman?”
“They, uh, gave me a three because apparently I write my Z’s with a line through the middle,” Smith said.
“And how do you feel about that?” we asked.
“I don’t particularly care about the grade. I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to take that exam. It just ended up happening. It’s a long story but basically, I killed a man with my bare hands in the Hudson staircase, and he was supposed to show up for the test. I didn't want anyone to become suspicious, so I just took his place. Anyways, I have to go.”
(muffled) “I think he just confessed to murder? (inaudible) No, I can’t go to the cops, they’re going to find out I’m three frogs in a trenchcoat.”