By Armita Rohani and Jessica A. Dennehy
High school students across the country have all been victim to the mysterious phenomenon of school air. It’s the unseen force that frizzes hair, ruins makeup, and leaves a lingering sense of exhaustion to the poor student body. General theories consist of mold, chalk dust, various fumes, and the general misery of academia, however, the case for Williamsville East High School is far worse and much more neglectful than anyone could have anticipated.
Since the school’s construction in 1975, the building integrity has remained untouched–minus the edition of the music hall back in 2021. The electrical, plumbing, and walls are consistent with the manufacturers that built the school over 50 years ago, and although such a timeline has never been of serious concern before, rusted pipes can only hold so long. With the various plumbing issues that have spiked around the school throughout the year, from shut down red and orange bathrooms to the pungent smells reeking from the green bathrooms, the originally installed pipes have deteriorated to such a degree that some bathrooms have been rendered inoperable–such as the 2nd floor red residing next to the language rooms.
Leaking bathroom pipes have not only posed an issue for the plumbing, but also–and more importantly–for ventilation. Although East’s AC units have remained intact and strong in cooling down and heating up the school, the filtration system for inhalable air has been faltering from the recent spike in vape and illegal drug usage. With the increase in pollutants, let alone the AX body spray and perfumes that reek the locker rooms–air filters are often clogged and overused while being scarcely replaced.
Thus you have “school air,” a combination of fecal, urine, narcotic, and deodorant musk floating in the same environment where we breathe, infesting our hair, lungs, notebooks, backpacks galore. In other words, the very air that students, teachers, and staff have been breathing every day has been infused with decades of bodily fluids and the remnants of long-forgotten gym socks.
Although not well-known, the phenomenon is well within its legal limit. So long as East remains below AQI 423, a pollution level so severe that it is roughly equivalent to chain-smoking an entire pack of cigarettes before the first bell, federal investigators are powerless in forcing the school to renovate–let alone providing funds to do so. However, health experts warn that the accumulation of chemicals—namely, aerosolized body spray particles, sweat fumes, and an unidentifiable, but deeply concerning locker room musk—could have lasting consequences. Some speculate that the sudden waves of headaches, muscle cramps, and skin irritation plaguing the student body are less the result of typical school stress and more a direct physiological response to sustained inhalation of contaminants that, by all logic, should not be in the air supply of a functioning educational institution. The CDC has expressed its concern, but has been brushed away by the new health minister, Mr. Kennedy.
“It is not only appalling that school air is allowed to reach such dire levels, but also disgusting,” says senior Armita Rohani, “if anything it makes me much more excited to graduate and leave. No one should be forced to learn, teach, let alone breathe in these conditions. The district and community need to step up and impose legislation that counters these lazy protocols.”
The only known safe haven within Williamsville East appears to be the nurse’s office. Conveniently located on the first floor, its position has seemingly deflected a significant portion of the airborne pollutants, making it the only semi-breathable space left in the building. Mandates for ventilation in medical spaces are much more strict, remaining below AQI 237, nearly half less than the rest of the school.