Operation Cheese Stick


Mackenna Yount

Students eating lunch and enjoying their midday break.

Phoenix Stogdill, Guest Writer

This assignment puts into perspective how few entertaining events have happened to me throughout the first eight hours of the week for the past three and a half years. The first things that come to mind are that one time a kid said a racial slur on a bus and got everyone yelled at (still awkward), the time I failed geometry by one percent (still mad), and getting in trouble for wanting to be a cult leader on some stupid career quiz I had to fill out during advisory (still funny). But after sifting through all these somewhat dull and certainly negative memories I remembered something from freshman year.

This year of high school was the best by far enjoyment wise. I had real friends, upperclassmen only made fun of me sometimes, & I didn’t care about getting any of my work done which definitely kept the stress levels down. The school I attended was Aspen Valley High School. It’s a very small alternative school that was poorly run and generally ranged from unremarkable to terrible in every category besides the number of things you could get away with unnoticed. I took full advantage of this fact and plotted up an idea with my friends.

The plan was unbelievably complex, so forgive me if I struggle to explain without three PowerPoint presentations and a whiteboard. About once a week or so, students received the standard greasy cheese stick with their lunch. I rallied the moron hive mind and convinced all my buddies to unwrap and loft their weekly cheese stick onto a window-ledge until either the year ended or we got in trouble. This particular ledge was prime cheese stick territory for a few reasons. It was behind a big wall that obscured us from being spotted by anyone invested enough to actually care, which was three staff members and the principle. The ledge was high up but not too high to make hitting your cheese throw inconsistent, and it was visible from the 2nd floor.

So the plan was established. Operation waste a piece of food on occasion was in order. Over the course of the year, we’d stacked well over fifty cheese sticks onto the ledge. We eventually had to stop because each throw started knocking other cheese sticks off the ledge. But there they were. A glorious scene of collaboration in the form of a disgusting amount of dried up cheese sticks covered in dust. When they aged from time and being baked in the sun, they shriveled up into gross dark yellow stubs. Some bent to the shape of the letter u. Patiently waiting for the end of the year when the school gets cleaned. We marveled at our achievement daily until the time came.

It was the last day of school. Everyone was running around unsupervised, some signing yearbooks, but most just walking or driving off the property. We had received news that each ledge was being dusted off by the janitor. We all stood within the line of sight in preparation. Finally, with a very long crooked duster, the poor man reached the ledge. A fountain of the old cheese
fell all over the floor. We held our laughter and evacuated. Guilty and victorious?