Churchill, we know each other well. I mean really well. During the past four years, and especially in the most recent, we’ve laughed together, cried, shared a milkshake, chest bumped and then high-fived jubilantly, held each other’s hair back and one time upstairs at our parent’s dinner party when you dropped the remote and our hands touched when we both went to pick it up and you did that laugh you always do and then you looked up at me and our eyes met and the rain was pouring down on us and you were mad I hadn’t written you but I really had 365 days of the year in the notebook and I was Ryan Gosling, things almost got intimate. Hell, this is the Senior Section and I won’t sugar coat it, things got downright freaky. Yea, it was pretty awkward after that, but we got through it just like we always do, you mischievous minx you, CHS.

So in our comfortability, let’s skip the chit-chat and get right down to business, baby. Today, in my last hoorah, my final bravado, the all-conclusive essay in which I take all I have learned throughout the years and concoct it into something so memorable and astonishing you find yourself unable to restrain from girlish screams as your clothes deteriorate from your body, I’d like to talk to you about hos.
Hoes, as a gardening utensil, have garnished themselves quite a respectable reputation. They are effective tools, able to remove quality spherical portions of soil in a speedily manner and are a trusted tool for many a gardener. Yet, it is a shame the same can not be said for the other type of ho: the human kind.

Human hos are a misunderstood group of individuals, and it’s a goddamn travesty. Now, before you get your pants in a tiff – how you do such a thing I’m not entirely sure – keep in mind I’m not talking about just anyone here. We may be talking about hos, but that doesn’t mean we can just throw this label on top, or under, anyone. Instead, understand I speak of a much more sophisticated ho, much different from the images of Paris Hilton, Tila Tequila and Snooki that spring to mind when the word ho is uttered outside of its understood gardening meaning.
I speak (someone has to as the hos are little busy right now) not for those whose loose actions are nothing more than feeble grasps for attention brought on by poor parenting, deep set psychological issues or a commitment to retaining demeaning stereotypes. Instead, I rally the cry of those who just enjoy having fun a little more than the next gal or guy, the men, women, she-men or whatever who say no to peer pressure and act with regard only to themselves. The hos I speak of are not simply loose with their body, but with all of societies pressures and never buy into the latest fad simply because their peers have. These are people who understand society’s expectation to keep your pants on at all times, yet question where exactly said pants should be worn and are always down for the wildcard.

These are good, honest people. Yet, some in the CHS student body have no problem just willy-nilly comparing them to the professional men and women of the night. While it’s true these individuals do often prowl during the infamous ‘Latenight’ hour, this comparison is nothing less than preposterous. Instead of using that mouth to utter slander, take a moment to talk to a ho and learn more about them. Aside from making a new friend, you’ll learn ways to make better use of that party pooping mouth. The fact is, everyone has feelings, and it’s libel like this that can hurt damn near every one of them.

Ultimately, what I’m getting at extends beyond the proper treatment of my hos. In a lot of ways, high school is nothing like the movies, but the social cliques and pressure so often stereotyped are vividly real and unfortunately omnipresent. In my time here, I’ve seen this girl do that to this girl to look cool in front of him because he’s pissed at him who just yelled at her because he told him to and then there was a sheman. The moral of that story is everyone got hurt. Yet, the irony of all the inevitable drama that occurs in high school is that these pressures have only as much power as you give them. It’s your buying into these pressures and stereotypes that allow them to consume you until you’re just another cog in the High School Musical machine (pre-breaking of the status quo, of course). Hos garnished their name by going against the grain, and while I’m not asking you to begin acting promiscuously, I hope that throughout the rest of high school you take a cue from the hos and find at least a tiny bit of rebellion in you. For only then, when you break away from any accepted norms that contradict who you are and act as yourself, will you find true happiness in high school and finally understand why we read Hamlet.