Fake News: A Complete Manifesto from The Barefoot Times, or, Stuff You Didn’t Particularly Care to Know
Image courtesy of the Muppet Wiki Fandom (yes, this apparently exists)
Why the Downstairs Kitchen is Faculty-Only
How better to start an exposé on Sequoyah lore than to reveal the truth about the downstairs faculty kitchen? A sore spot among the school’s horde of hangry students, this faculty-only room remains a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. But no more.
In fact, my very own advisor is the reason this ultra-exclusive club is only open to VIPs (Very Important Professors). Bradley Immel, along with his extensive knowledge of geometry, is a self-proclaimed food lover with a penchant for pickles. Cucumbers, pumpkins, rutabagas, fish–you name it, he pickles it. However, due to the sheer quantity of his cured confections (I’m talking jars and jars here, folks), Immel had no choice but to move his pickling headquarters from his private residence to the faculty kitchen. His fellow teachers, especially pickle lover and Music teacher Ben Ede, are enthusiastic about this relocation, because they reap the fruits of Immel’s labor–free pickle samples for all! In fact, rumor has it that Immel sends each teacher home with a care package of pickled paraphernalia every week for moral support. However, this information is top-secret to students, even the hungry ones, and the door to the faculty kitchen thus remains closed. (Trust me, I’ve tried.)
When I confronted Immel about this pickle elitism, he denied the truth, but we’ve all seen Hannah Karmin downing pickled turnips after A Block as a morning pick-me-up. We demand an end to these lies! Pickles for all!
What’s Really in the Ross Supply Closet
I was recently tipped off by my colleague, Rachel Youngstrom ’26, that the storage room in the back of Ross Chapel is, in fact, occupied by more than many stacks of dilapidated purple chairs. Naturally, being an inquisitive soul, I had to investigate her claim. And all I can say is…
Youngstrom was right.
As someone who’s had multiple classes in Ross, it was somewhat of a shock to realize that my hideous British accent from Foundations in Theater last year was observed by a sentient being from the darkness of the supply closet. This sentient being happens to be none other than the (in)famous Oscar the Grouch.
Personally, I’ve always connected with Mr. Grouch on a fundamental level, seeing that my life goal is also to be a grumpy entity living in a trash can–in other words, a New Yorker. Anyway, Mr. Grouch informed me that he was displaced from Sesame Street after Jim Henson’s death and relocated to said supply closet for affordability reasons. After screaming at me for disrupting his peace, he explained that he has a don’t ask, don’t tell policy with Sequoyah faculty and the occasional meandering student. “But,” he told me, “I do know one fellow on staff. He goes by some sort of abbreviation… FQ? VB? No, that’s not right…”
For more information, please contact Mr. Grouch. And remember, that closet is pretty isolated, so no one will hear you scream.
The Sequoyah Prom is Open to Sophomores to Shame the Freshmen
Sequoyah’s credo of inclusivity really knows no bounds. Unlike the archaic practice of reserving prom for the oft-celebrated Senior Class (capital S, capital C), Sequoyah has thrown off the ageist shackles of the high school hierarchy and opened its annual prom to Juniors and Sophomores as well. Yet all may not be as it seems. I, your intrepid Barefoot Times reporter who spends her time traipsing through Muppet-occupied closets, recently received information from an anonymous source, revealing the far more sinister reason sophomores can attend prom–namely, to make the freshman feel left out.
This classic strategy of divide and conquer, according to my source, is employed by the nefarious Big Events Committee chair Sacha Smith ’24, who holds a grudge against the underclassmen and seeks to create discord. (The source of this grudge is unknown, but experts speculate that Sequoyah High School Director Marc Alongi may be involved.) Smith is quoted as saying, “I’d rather have to put up with sophomores at my prom than have the underclassmen in unity. Ugh. I hate unity.”
Regardless of Smith’s intentions, this exclusion is definitely felt among the shunned freshmen. Ila Brookshire ’27 tells me, “I can’t get over this feeling of inadequacy. Like, who am I anymore? And why are freshmen considered a lower form of human life?” (I would like to note that Brookshire did not appreciate my answer to her question.)
Anyway, how does this sophomore feel, considering she’s but a pawn in the Big Events Committee’s games? Well, at least I’m not a freshman.
Sequoyah Puts the Kibosh on Consequences
If you’re wondering about the seemingly lax nature of Sequoyah’s consequence system, stay curious! I’ve recently discovered violating school norms is, in fact, punishable by disciplinary action; however, these consequences are slightly bizarre.
Take my colleague Gigi Perrin ’26, who was recently busted for ordering DoorDash to campus. Perrin suggests a few possibilities about her lunch’s eventual destination and/or upcoming consequences she may face; however, I know the real story. Perrin was robbed of her milkshake, which was later fed to Sequoyah’s growing population of ravenous squirrels, who have grown tired of their intrepid forays into the lunch bags of unfortunate students and now demand victuals from Shake Shack instead. Hence, the school has recently taken the step of hiring Loella Kleiner ’27 as Sequoyah’s designated squirrel chaser, as a consequence for one of Kleiner’s past misdemeanors. No one knows exactly what she did, but her murderously themed Talking Leaf may provide some clues.
Anyway…
Another frequent school violation occurs deep in the bowels of campus–literally. Students are banned from using the Sanctuary’s bathrooms, much to their chagrin. If Sequoyah admin catch you sneaking into one of these hallowed chambers, your future looks grim. Prepare to start scrubbing the tiles with a singular toothbrush until the bathroom is gleaming. And newly elected Sequoyah co-president Wiley Bouchard ’26 will stand outside with his arms crossed until you’re done–honestly, that might be an even scarier punishment.
In short, if you’re looking to break a rule, ChatGPT is your best option.
The Production of Chicago Killed Someone to Practice Method Acting
Do not get on a theater kid’s bad side. Just don’t.