Disclaimer: this article is satire. We don’t actually like taking the stairs. 

Ramaz has a pandemic on its hands and not the one that requires you to wear masks. It’s been spotted by the teachers, administrators, and that annoying group of seniors who kick lowerclassmen out of the fourth-floor lounge. It’s called disrespect. 

In response to the rudeness displayed by the younger grades David Tarrab ’22 said “these students don’t know how to behave themselves, the sophomores are still freshies and the freshmen don’t get the respect of being called freshies, they are too low on the totem pole for that, you can’t just sit down wherever you want, there are orders in place.”

One of the new policies enacted by the administration this year is the eight-person elevator rule. Even though Ramaz is staying true to its mission of keeping students safe from COVID-19, as shown by the 25 percent of teachers who consistently wear their masks, students have been cramming into the elevators, going against CDC guidelines and taking the risk of the elevator breaking down and leaving students stranded inside. Many teachers have been strictly enforcing this new policy. 

“I say the elevators are Avodah Zarah,” says Rabbi Schiowitz, after kicking everyone out of the elevator in the lobby, riding up to the second floor, and walking back down to do it all again. “I do not make enough money to be the elevator security man, and worst of all this issue makes kids never go to the correct mincha room. Do I know how it’s all connected? No, but one day I will find out.”  Other teachers, including one who hosts the best Friday tisches and would rather stay anonymous, turn a blind eye to the number of kids in the elevator. 

“Chevra, you are not all here, but if you are here and I just can’t see you, this would be the perfect opportunity for some shteiging and a quick mincha. Do we have a minyan? Yes, yes good.” 

Besides going against Ramaz’s sacred COVID-19 guidelines, the elevators have consistently been breaking down, causing students to be late to classes. When requesting a comment from a freshman, the child looked at me, with tear-stained eyes and a morose complexion, saying that they heard from a certain Rabbi that a golem lived in the elevator and that they wanted to make it to double Gemara alive. 

“I have never been in the elevator before, but I know my friends who have been are never the same. Their bags were so smushed together so that you would need the jaws of life to get them out.”

Many teachers, including Ms. Cohen, argue that the elevators should not be in use at all. “Kids these days need to exercise, they can’t just be on their phones all day and start playing spikeball when I don’t make it to the gym on time. If we shut all the elevators off, you know, except for the secret teacher one we use, it would make kids get off their tukases.” 

Romi Chaovat ’24, a student whose schedule miraculously shifts every period between the second and seventh floor says that “our elevators take more days off than we do for chagim, and that snails move faster than the elevators do.”

I propose many innovative ideas to solve the elevator issue. For one, let’s turn the stairs into escalators! This way no one will need the elevators and kids will have no problems with the new system since a) they get to class even later and b) what teacher wants to be stuck in awkward silence with a student while the “phrum” of the escalator is humming away. This will let the students talk amongst themselves and not be worried about being overheard. When asked for a comment on this groundbreaking idea the administration said that they would be “thrilled” to support it as long as they were not involved in any way shape or form and had no part in its construction or supervision.  In any case, exciting news. And remember: eight in an elevator, any more and you might get the coronavirus, which we are, like your skirt lengths, deeply concerned about.

Due to recent developments in the student body’s (freshman) behavior, the administration has decided to allow the student body the opportunity to use the stairways to their full advantage, by closing off complete access to the elevator. Surprisingly, many dislike this great addition to our physical health curriculum, with echoes and murmurs floating through the halls including a particular group of seniors shouting, “From staircase A to staircase B, the elevators will be free!” However, it seems that Ramaz students have behaved so well that the stairway fitness program has been enacted. A particular underclassman, who would like to stay anonymous for fear of being trampled on, commented that they are excited to get this amount of exercise. “I love how the administration cares about pushing us to our limits, first with the homework and now with our physical health. The four-minute in-between class shifts really drive us to exceed our potential. On my application to Yale, I won’t forget to write ‘star staircase climber.’ These skills matter to the college admissions board.” This athlete, as we know, is in the majority. And this program leaves many wondering about the need for gym classes at all. But a class is a class, and a stairwell is a stairwell, and what would high school even be without a puny freshman being stepped on by a group of seniors.