Mae Mu

A Letter to the Orange-Throwers

People say you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, meaning this comment encourages friends to do something outside their comfort zone. But have you ever wondered if it would be wisest not even to consider taking the shot at all? 

I say this, pointing my comment directly to the group of students who have recently been trying to throw oranges on the roofs of school buildings. The oranges almost never make it up there. They’re always rotting in random corners of campus or smashed into the sidewalk, showing me that the culprits are definitely not baseball players. Maybe it’s time to retire your throwing arms?

This is really not a good look for whoever’s involved. 

Also, to the person who gets a laugh out of smashing an ice cream cone into the brick wall under the arches, I send you my condolences. School must be pretty rough for you right now if you think it is peak comedy to leave a dripping cone there. 

And why did someone bother toilet-papering the trees in front of the library? No one even lives there. 

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Too much a stickler in my skepticism of harmless pranks. But in all honesty, this stuff bothers me. 

I’ve never been a huge fan of any kind of ding-dong-ditching, toilet-papering or any other basic teen goofball activity. Mostly because I think it’s a waste of time, but also because my family and I had property damaged a few years back after some seemingly harmless pranks.  During my sophomore year of high school, I was homeschooled and played sports at a tiny Christian school. I knew most of the students just because there were relatively few of them, but there was one group that I was only vaguely acquainted with since they were usually involved in drama. 

One morning, my family and I woke up to the sight of a slimy mess all over the roof of our new black van. It was sticky and clumpy, a strange whitish-beige substance slopped all over. The mysterious mixture was later revealed to be olive oil and pancake mix as my dad began poking at it. It had hardened overnight, becoming almost cement-like in its consistency. It would be impossible to scrape off without ruining the paint job. My dad took our van to the car wash and tried everything he could to get it off without destroying the roof, but it was impossible. The van was permanently scarred. 

All the members of my family were surprised that this kind of thing had happened to us. My siblings and I had always kept a pretty low profile. None of us had ever been involved in drama or fights with other kids. Who had done this, and why? 

Imagine my surprise when I found out it was a girl in my grade who was practically a stranger. There were no real reasons behind her actions. Her and her friends just decided it would be a funny thing to do. 

You may be wondering how this story applies to the students leaving little surprises all over campus, and my answer is this: 

Some pranks can seem silly and harmless, but they always have consequences. Leaving marks on property that isn’t yours does not demonstrate respectfulness, in fact, it does just the opposite. Smashed oranges on the sidewalk are not very attractive sights for touring students. Vandalizing and littering, in general, are never a joke, no matter how small the affected area is. We should be taking care of our campus (no matter how much we love school right now) because we should want to be responsible people, and even more so, our faith should push us to be courteous and mature in everything we say and do.     

In conclusion, my challenge to the students partaking in the pranks is this: Do you really want another Asbury fine on top of the parking ticket you got last week? How about we try to only put food in our mouths where it belongs and save the toilet paper? You never know when COVID-19  might get bad again and you’ll need those hoarded Charmin Ultra Soft squares.