Dear Air Vents

Asha Tompkins, Editor

Dear air vents,

I feel like I’m on a blind date with myself.

It’s just me here in the computer lab of Pendergrass Palace.

I’m taking the term “I wouldn’t date you if you were the last person on Earth” to the next level–which totally brings me to my main topic: Air conditioning.

What cretin on this planet decided to let moist air into the classrooms of Biddeford high school? Did someone spread the rumor of there being a drought here?

Fake news.

The only climate change I’m seeing is the growth of perspiration stains on people’s shirts.

Obviously this problem will only get better as the seasons change, but what happened to living for not the past nor future but the present? Yeah, that applies to, like, people who graduated or dropped-out since they don’t really have to deal with being trapped with 800 kids and their body odor for seven hours every day (not counting faculty). Not to mention, when you rub your fingers together you can feel the humidity–you can basically drink it. So, no; we are not living for this moment, we are living for the moment when we can walk out the doors and inhale God-given plant-filtered air.

Why isn’t there such a thing as a pocket-sized dehumidifier? I believe–passionately–that somewhere in the minds of the plethora of people in our school that someone can create a pocket-sized dehumidifier. I’ll supervise or start fundraising for the research by selling “de-moisten Biddeford high school” T-shirts and sweatbands at the Waterhouse field concession stand.

The Earth is 71% water. My completely accurate calculations lead me to believe that this school contains approximately 68% of that water…and Texas holds the other three percent. There is no simple solution to this epidemic. We need to de-moisten this school and we need to de-moisten it now.


first world problems.