The Student News Site of Albuquerque Academy

The Advocate

The Student News Site of Albuquerque Academy

The Advocate

The Student News Site of Albuquerque Academy

The Advocate

Deans Destroying Dreams: The Academy Parking Crisis

It Ain’t No Zhang: A Satire Column (Part 1)

Check out the photos at the bottom to learn more about this pressing issue.

The parking situation at Academy is out of control. For years, countless drivers in the 10-12 division have recklessly disobeyed the sacred parking rules stating that sophomores/juniors may only park in either the overflow or stadium lot and that seniors are to only park in their designated painted parking spots. However, there have been multiple sightings of troublemakers parking in forbidden areas—notably the visual arts and softball lots. Our beloved 10-12 student deans, Mr. Bob Anderson and Mr. Mark Kevan, have desperately tried to combat Academy’s finest parking delinquents. Despite their best efforts to ward off rule-breakers by camping out in the softball lot and sending aggressive emails threatening detention, the deans were simply no match for the approximately 500 Covid-Gen-Z Academy students who somehow did not learn how to park in the proper lot during Driver’s Ed classes. Clearly, Albuquerque’s Driver’s Ed programs need to revise their curriculums and teach new drivers how to obey rules regarding where to park instead of throwing clipboards at them during drive time.

Enough is enough, however. Since the parking problem at Academy takes higher priority than any other concern—including the issue of the entirety of Brown Hall occasionally smelling like strawberries from a delightful vape pen—the Board of Trustees was roped into the matter. Recently, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kevan were called into the Board’s office for a “talk” regarding their incompetencies in catching parking lot rule-breakers. When questioned about the contents of the “talk,” the Board refused to reveal any details, but many students reported hearing whirring noises and zombified moans of the phrase, “You shall be expelled.” The deans emerged from the Board’s office a few hours later looking more stern than usual.

Just as they had surfaced from the depths of the Board’s office, the deans suddenly went missing. Mr. Kevan wasn’t in his classroom lecturing about Pentacycloanammoxic Acid, and Mr. Anderson couldn’t be found smugly guarding the dining hall doors at 11:33 a.m. from undernourished stampedes of 10-12 students. Chaos ravaged Brown Hall as there was no one to remind anyone about making good decisions. Cries of confusion and anguish were finally answered when an extremely intelligent student decided to act responsibly and check their email. What they found sent shockwaves through the division: Mr. Anderson had left a note stating that he and Mr. Kevan had taken a new position and would no longer serve as the 10-12 student deans.

Naturally, the intellectually nosy student body began pondering the whereabouts of the missing deans. Remembering their profound passions for beach ball ballet, one student reportedly searched all New Mexico ballet studios but failed to find any trace of the deans. Another student even trekked to Bear Canyon in hopes that the deans were there pursuing their secret dreams of becoming lumberjacks, but to no avail.

It’s incredibly heartwarming to know that the parking management presidents sincerely wish the best for us upon expulsion.

Little did anyone know that Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kevan hadn’t left campus, and their new positions were presidents of Academy’s new parking management department. Amid the disarray, the new presidents secretly swept through the parking lots, once again muttering the phrase, “You shall be expelled.” Additionally, it seemed that they had modified the original punishment of just detention. At the end of the day, nearly every student vehicle had a detention slip resting under the windshield wipers, and a select few also had a mysterious piece of paper taped to the windshield: a letter of expulsion. Between 3:30 and 4:00 p.m., screams of pure horror echoed within the fences of Academy.

When asked about the change in his behavior, Mr. Anderson only hissed and shoved a detention slip in my face. After ditching a week’s worth of classes to conduct an extensive examination of the presidents’ behaviors, I’m pleased to finally publicize my findings.

Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kevan have officially been brainwashed by the Board to execute its wishes in chastising all students who refuse to abide by the rules. The Board has also made it extremely clear that they will not tolerate sloppy parking. Each morning at precisely 9:46 a.m., Mr. Kevan begins wandering the student lots with a yardstick, carefully measuring the distance between each car’s tires and the parking space line in the student lots. Any student who does not park perfectly equidistant from either side of the parking space (with an error margin of ±0.000001 nanometers) and perfectly parallel to the lines will receive a slip—containing questionable spelling conventions—for detention. Mr. Anderson, on the other hand, prefers a stealthier means of patrolling the lots by darting from tree to tree and using his trusty binoculars to spot rule-breakers from miles away. However, the brainwashing rendered Mr. Anderson slightly inept as he never seems to remember to take the coverings off his binoculars.

Detention slips likes this truthfully speak towards the entire 10-12 division’s parking abilities.

Those found irresponsibly parking in a lot other than their grade’s designated parking lots and without regard for the Board of Trustees’ very reasonable, manageable, and understandable guidelines were immediately ejected from the school, receiving a very kind-spirited note of expulsion on their car windshield. Prefrosh Enahiar Neb—one of the many lucky students to have received correction—regales, “It was horrible, they stood over me as I wept atop my car, staring blankly into the distance. Well, Mr. Anderson was staring into the distance. Mr. Kevan seemed intrigued by something on his shoe. My stuffed sloth looked at me through the windshield in mourning, the only friend I had left in the world.”

Mr. Kevan, who reviewed this exposé for publication, questioned, “He has friends?” with a genuinely confused expression on his face.

When not ruining students’ lives and making rounds around the parking lots, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kevan reside in the security office, attentively monitoring the cameras, and at night, they can be spotted hanging upside-down from the rafters like bats. Every Saturday, they meet with the Board to wash their brains in laundry machines to cleanse themselves of the impurities of juvenile mischief. To any naive student who still thinks they can stealthily disobey the parking rules, I leave you with three words: they’re always watching.

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  • (In one of those tour guide voices): And to the right, you’ll see Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kevan sinisterly peaking over a tree branch in their natural parking lot habitat.

  • Does Mr. Anderson ever wonder why he doesn’t see anything through his binoculars? The Board needs to consider modifying their brainwashing rituals.

  • Detention slips likes this truthfully speak towards the entire 10-12 division’s parking abilities.

  • It’s incredibly heartwarming to know that the parking management presidents sincerely wish the best for us upon expulsion.

  • Mr. Kevan scowls at slipshod parking. Or maybe he’s scowling at the fact that he’s using a yardstick instead of a meterstick. It’s hard to tell.

  • Enahiar Neb weeps into his expulsion letter. But more importantly, what could possibly be so intriguing about Mr. Kevan’s shoe?

  • The beginning of Neb’s villain arc…

  • The best part of this image is that it was taken after the staged photoshoot was done.

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