A slippery slope

A slippery slope

Katerina Papanikolopoulos

I started the day as I usually do sleeping through my alarm clock, skipping breakfast, and riding with my carpool to school. I walk through the parking lot, and on to the steep slope that leads to the cross walk. I feel the ground sliding beneath me, slowly slipping, down, down, down to my inevitable crash. My butt hits the ice while my dignity crashes with it. I stand up and shake the snow off as gracefully as possible and continue walking while steeping in embarrassment and self pity. As I proceed to walk to school the only thing I can think about are the benefits of going to Minnetonka, because obviously I can no longer be seen in the Blake hallways.

I know I am not the only one who has experienced this; you or maybe your friends have fallen on their butt and feared this pathway like I have so far this winter. What bugs me the most is that this isn’t a hard problem to fix. It’s simple: pour some salt down or use a shovel. You would think between the 9th grade ‘wanna be gossip girl’ blog The Salty Spectrum, The Bunion, and Mr. Gazette, there would be enough salt to put on the walk way. If Blake refuses to pour salt on the pathway, or even shovel, then alternate solutions should be provided to students. One solution would include a support group, or one-on-one sessions with fellow victims so we can all learn to overcome our trauma when it comes to this pathway. A second solution would consist of providing students with Ice Alert (a modification to Life Alert), reassuring instant medical attention if need be.

For now, this pathway may just seem like a minor safety hazard that will resolve itself in the spring, but for those of you who think that way, I would encourage you to reflect on the origins of the popular phrase, “It’s a slippery slope.”