It began with the buses: the kiddie pools didn’t fit. ICSD, used to accommodating every orientation, tried sideways, vertical, and diagonal to no avail. Finally, the district, drawing on the fulsome depths of its ingenuity, had the bus drivers strap them to the roof. Then, gusts of wind sent them tumbling across Route 13. A particularly bold deer managed to gore dozens before, intimidated by oncoming traffic, it fled the scene. The district, drawing on the slightly less fulsome depths of their ingenuity now, ordered the bus drivers to seal up the damage with duct tape. They sent out an email, saying that they would adhere (like duct tape to ruined plastic) to the district’s core value of tenacity—the virtual swim unit would go on, just a little later than anticipated.
Weeks passed, and slowly, the kiddie pools were distributed. But students had little idea where to store them, and many were left to languish outside. One Biology teacher took advantage of a freshman’s kiddie pool, which had been overtaken by scores of mating ducks, to teach about avian reproduction. Many students’ froze, and the lucky students, whose kiddie pools weren’t ruined, took it upon themselves to make sure they were rendered non-functional. But students were still forced to lie on their lawns and practice the front crawl while on Google Meets.
“If they can’t go in water, at least they can practice their form,” one gym teacher said, “The fact that it was absolutely hilarious has nothing to do with it.” But this new plan too was stopped after a string of 911 calls from concerned neighbors reported that teens were having strokes outside.
A sophomore admitted, “My neighbor came over and tried to help, and, honestly, I just went with it rather than admit I was in gym class. I got all the way to the emergency room before they realized.”
Wading in the shallows of their ingenuity, the district turned to the resource that had never failed them, that they were proudest of, that showed their commitment and support of their students: Chromebooks. At a virtual awards ceremony, Jason Trumble, unveiled the secret fifth core value. “And it is,” there was a pregnant pause, aborted by a technological stumble in which Trumble’s hype playlist was accidentally projected onto the screen, “Er, go back now.” The fifth core value was not, in fact, the enigmatic “er, go back now,” but “water resistance.” Each student was now issued a waterproof sticker for their Chromebook, which would allow them to take the device into bodies of water.
The waterproof stickers may have been more secure than the kiddie pools, but they quickly became an underwater currency. “Bitcoin,” a member of the investment club said, “is over. Waterproofies—our name for them—are the future.” But inflation skyrocketed as Mr. Krywe’s engineering students began hoarding the stickers in preparation for the cardboard boat race. The prospect of waterproofing their creations revolutionized the field.
The virtual swim unit, as doomed as it was, really created a community for students. It turned out a wash at the end, but the work of swimming upstream strengthened ICSD. A Culture of Love is nothing compared to a Culture of Bonding Over Shared Inconvenience.
APRIL FOOLS’!