The Official Stuyvesant Freshman Survival Guide

Welcome to Stuyvesant High School! You have survived the SHSAT, the admissions process, and approximately 47 texts from your parents asking whether you have “everything ready for your first week.” Now that you have spent a month taking tests, figuring out which teachers actually assign homework, and realizing that “free time” was a lie, it is time to learn how Stuyvesant really works.

Unfortunately, nobody has told you yet.

Luckily, we will.

After years of extensive research, interviews with highly qualified upperclassmen, and absolutely no consultation with faculty, The Spectator has compiled the definitive guide to surviving your first year at Stuy. Please thoroughly memorize the following information. Your entire academic career depends on it.

First, you should know about one of Stuyvesant’s oldest traditions: hallway etiquette. Contrary to popular belief, freshmen are actually supposed to walk on the left side of the hallway. Seniors walk on the right, juniors walk diagonally, and sophomores simply choose whichever direction causes the most foot traffic. This system was designed by Peter Stuyvesant himself after becoming frustrated with Newton’s laws of motion. Unfortunately, the system has never been updated, which is why juniors have to spend so much time calculating their velocity, displacement, and acceleration just to make it to class on time.

If you are caught walking on the wrong side, do not fret. You will only be forced to take an extra semester of swim gym.

You may have also heard that everyone gets four or five minutes to get to their next class. This is another misconception spread by the administration. Freshmen get four minutes, sophomores get five, juniors get seven, and seniors get approximately 45 minutes because they have “senior privileges.” These privileges are only granted to students who have successfully survived enough years of Stuyvesant to develop the ability to teleport.

This is why you will occasionally see a senior casually walking to class several minutes after the bell while you are sprinting down the (wrong side of the) hallway with one shoe untied. Do not be jealous. You will understand when you’re older.

And if you think that sounds unfair, wait till you hear about the library.

Everyone knows the library has four floors. What is less known is that there is a secret fifth floor, which can only be accessed by students who have maintained a 96 or higher average for two consecutive marking periods. Nobody in The Spectator has ever seen it, but according to highly credible sources, it contains everything Stuyvesant students have spent four years asking for: functioning printers, comfortable chairs, unlimited snacks, and Wi-Fi that does not mysteriously stop working when you have exactly 30 seconds left to submit an assignment.

There are also rumors of a Quizlet black market, a private Blank Street, and an emergency exit that leads directly outside the building. The exit is never used because only the school’s most academically successful students can access it, and they would rather do next year’s AP homework than go touch some grass.

Of course, no survival guide would be complete without discussing the cafeteria. The seating hierarchy is quite simple: freshmen sit wherever there is space, sophomores sit wherever there is slightly more space, juniors sit with their friends (if they happen to have any), and seniors sit wherever they want. During particularly crowded lunch periods, however, “wherever there is space” may mean the floor.

Do not attempt to challenge this hierarchy. If you sit at a senior’s table, you will not be physically removed (they’re too “easygoing” for that). You will simply experience a level of social discomfort that makes you voluntarily relocate.

Remember, if someone ever asks, “Are you sitting here?” the correct answer is always “No.” Even if you are. Never let them know your next move. Stay mysterious. Stay indestructible. 

The lunch guards, meanwhile, operate under an entirely separate system of law. Nobody knows exactly what their jurisdiction covers, but it is generally understood that they have the authority to stop you from doing anything that looks remotely fun. If you see one approaching, put your phone away, sit down, and look as though you have been discussing your AP Bio coursework for the past 20 minutes (or simply stare at your half-eaten lunch).

Speaking of AP coursework, there is one final piece of important information you must be aware of: never trust an upperclassman.

This may seem contradictory, considering that this entire guide was written by upperclassmen. That is because we are trustworthy. Other upperclassmen are not. We are the “nice guys” of the school.

If an upperclassman tells you that a teacher gives no homework, verify it. If an upperclassman tells you that you can use your phone in the bathroom, be suspicious. If an upperclassman tells you that you can skip class because “they don’t take attendance,” do not do that either.

And if an upperclassman hands you a copy of this article and tells you everything in it is true—

Well… 

Let’s put our thinking caps on.