As the school year approaches its completion, we should all begin to feel really good about ourselves that we made it. I mean, it was rough, wasn’t it? All of that thinking with our heads, all of that writing with our hands. I don’t know about you, but it was the breathing with my trachea that really got to me.

This year was very physically demanding. The administration and the teachers really stepped up their game this time. Well played, sirs and madams, well played.

Anyway, I am sure that the “Trustees of the Board of Education,” or any of those people with fancy-shmancy professional titles are vigorously working to improve things for next year with their legal notepads and expensive pens.

Things. They are working on things. What are things exactly? Well, I heard we might be getting a new food service. That’s a thing, I guess. I heard all of the math teachers are being fired and replaced by apes, but that could just be a rumor. I’ll have to check on that one. Well, if there isn’t too much else on the agenda for improvements, may I make a few suggestions? “Sure you can.” Thanks, pal.

I have noticed throughout my days at Glenbrook South High School that the teenage attention span is not very long. In fact, it may be irregularly short. Nevertheless, something should be done to help students cope with their, let’s say, inability to focus for long periods of time. However, instead of taking the common approach of diagnosing some drug or having kids work on activities to help strengthen attentiveness, why don’t we do something radical? What if the entire school day was shaped around the attention span of a teenager? And by this I mean shortening periods to an amount of time for which a teenager can focus: thirty minutes.

Classic television shows such as MTV’s Yo Mamma have found that a thirty minute episode can keep the viewer’s attention. Throw a few commercials in there and you’re golden. And I mean that. Since everyone is always ripping on the parapros for not doing anything, why don’t we have them come into each class twice during its thirty minutes and advertise a product. Costumes, makeup, and everything. Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t enjoy a parapro walking into your Chemistry class dressed in a Mrs. Buttersworth syrup bottle bodysuit.

Moving along. Instead of announcements on Monday describing different events going on in the building for that week, we should just have someone read off a list of gossip. Tina made out with Brad. *Get out of town!* Bob passed out at Linda’s party. *Are you serious?* Leonard outgrew his pair of jeans…again. *Another enthusiastic interjection!!* This would be beneficial in two ways. It would eliminate that familiar drone that is heard in the first five minutes of each class on Mondays when kids contribute their two cents about some piece of juicy gossip. It would also aid people like myself, who no matter how hard we try, will never be up-to-date with the social babble.

I find out months later that the girl of my dreams dumped her loser boyfriend. I then immediately learn that she has been dating some “dude” with gelled hair, a stud diamond earring, and a fast car to transport his six-pack ripped body dressed in one of his many Abercrombie polos. This is by no means a true story. (If you are reading this, you deserve better.)

Things are looking up, Glenbrook South. I wholeheartedly believe that upon reading this column, the administration will call an emergency meeting to discuss all of the good ideas I have asserted. The meeting will start with one of the deans saying, “You know, that funny looking kid has a point.” I’m not going to say anything, but it’s looking pretty good for us. They’ve noted their weaknesses, discussed solutions, and are ready for change. To quote a good friend of mine, Bob “the hammer” Dylan (I gave him that nickname back in ’73), “The times, they are a-changin’”. So long, America. Dembo—out.

Robbie Dembo, columnist