For too long, the equilibrium of my British literature class has been thrown into an anarchic state of disorder due to an unequal moiety of seat placement. Simply put, every single other day, one innocent student is forced into exile on the left side by no other factor other than the cold hand of timing and chance. To bear the brunt of 75 minutes of silence is a fate more than many can bear. The iron curtain that divides the two sides of the classroom must be rigorously reinforced, in order to preclude the possibility of intermingling between the two sides. The salt on the wounds of the occupant of the lonely seat is that there is a perfectly unused seat that could easily be moved into the other corner of the right side. I know firsthand the suffering that comes in with walking into C Block and seeing the desks on the right side, my Elysium, all occupied. I also know how difficult it is to sit in icy silence for the duration of the whole block. The long walk to the vacant seat on the left side is perhaps the most emasculating path ever trod on by a pair of Austin Prep male Sperries. This is supposed to be a Catholic institution, in which the roles that the men and women play are placed into a refined dichotomy. Yet, I digress. The feeling of despondency that washes over a student when they realize they have been sent to the Gulag AKA the left side of the room is a cyclical feeling that is exacerbated by the knowledge that the exact same fate could be unceremoniously dumped upon them next class. This is an extremely troublesome feeling that could easily be alleviated by any moderately robust student exerting the minimum level of joules required to carry a desk from point A to point B. A vote for this necessary modern-day apartheid is a vote for preserving balance in the aura of the classroom. Therefore, I urge all potential signers to look deep within their electrode hearts and become a signatory to this demand. P.S. Take a stone out of C block.