Churchill, I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more loving. But it looks like I’m going to stay a sick boy for some time, because even after looking high and low, I have yet to find any love. Where is the love, CHS?

Times are tough. The stock market’s shakier than a poorly constructed see-saw with a fat toddler atop it, the economy is busted and to top it off, Hannah Montana just won’t go away. It’s desperate times like this when we need our loving the most, yet it’s nowhere to be found.

I looked in the main office and didn’t find any there. My trips to the cafeteria and security office proved just as fruitless. These barren corridors, which once had love on tap and where joy was so plentiful, have recently only served as stark reminders of how the times have stripped us clean of any good old fashion loving.

Now I’m not talking about the kind of loving you learn about in health class that the freshman go Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over. We still have that in truckloads here. Instead, I’m talking about something that transcends simple physical contact. I’m talking about the feeling you get when you walk into a place where there’s a smile for every face and everyone just genuinely wants to get along. I’m talking about a place that welcomes you and just feels right, exactly how a school should feel.

It’s like everyone walking around nowadays has a chip on their shoulder. People no longer see a stranger as a potential friend, but as potential trouble. Benefit of the doubt has been eradicated and replaced with simply doubt. Seriously, why we got to be bringing each other down, man?

You want to go out for lunch? Well you’re going to have to fill out the lunch pass form nine times because we’re assuming you forged that signature. Don’t you dare try and check your phone to check the time unless you want to become a suspected terrorist. I’m tormented enough worrying about catching swine flu, but now I also have to deal with the pressure of constantly wondering whether my friendly antics will be misconstrued as bullying. This school is in desperate need of an extra strength chill pill (formally prescribed by a doctor of course).

But perhaps the biggest atrocity I witnessed lately was when I observed a student who, unsure why she was being reprimanded, received more punishment for simply asking why. How can creativity, independence, and audacity ever hope to be fostered in an environment that stifles any sort of mild rebellion that comes in the form of a mere question. It should be our duty as the student body to constantly question, and that sort of behavior should be encouraged.

I understand that order needs to be kept and sometimes harsh rules must be enacted to control a large student body, but order should be kept with a filing cabinet, not an iron fist. These tactics are more commonly employed by the everyday bully, who provides no justification for his endless atomic wedges and purple-nurples. CHS, stop bringing me down everyday by metaphorically pulling my underwear into uncomfortable positions. I mean seriously, did you even watch the video?

Administration and the student body don’t have to be two separate entities, but it’s impossible to forget who the master is when the collar is constantly tightened. Just as the student body trusts the administration to instill its fundamental values, there needs to be a reciprocal trust that we’re not always scheming to bite that hand feeds. A symbiotic relationship is what’s needed if we ever hope to transform the Bulldog Lobby into the Love Lounge.

But this doesn’t just apply to administration. Honestly, this is really the student body’s fault. The seemingly unjust rules we constantly bicker about aren’t from an administration that finds joy in administering pain. It comes from the frustration of a system that for too long has had to deal with students who believe that anything that temporarily knocks them off their pedestal must be wrong. The fact is, there is rhyme and reason to most rules. If you truly feel you’re being wronged and cannot see the reasoning behind your chastisement, then you need to question that authority in an approachable and respectable manner. It’s not just your job as a student; it’s your duty as an American. If you don’t ask why, you’re a communist. And I hate communists almost as much as I hate freshmen.