As midterm exams loom on the horizon and a not-so-distant Christmas is at the edge of everyone’s mind, we like to reflect on the past semester. For most people, there is a clear transition from optimism at the beginning of the school year, to solemn perseverance in the middle, to excitement at the end of the semester. For the fine folks in IB Computer Science, however, this has not been the case. 

We began the year like everyone else–optimistic. We would soon learn that our year had already been tarnished, we had already been hooked. Not two weeks into the semester we could all feel that something was missing: our mouths were watering and we were having trouble focusing. Junior John Walter Whisenhunt voiced it first: “I need me some Skittles.”

Our four man class is the remainder of our previous year’s AP Computer Science ten person class: four seniors had graduated, and a sophomore and a junior had decided not to continue with computer science. 

Among the graduated seniors was my brother, Carter. Carter had gotten into the habit last year of buying Skittles from the bookstore to bring into class. He would then allow people to try them, assuring people that “they all taste the same.” For us, computer science became a thing to do while tasting the rainbow. Carter and I even stopped by a gas station on the way to our AP exam to pick up a bag of Skittles to share during break time. 

As our desire set in, Senior Mac Spear was the first to bite the bullet and take action. We came into class the next day to find two “sharing size” bags of Skittles. These bags, I must admit, lasted an embarrassingly small amount of time as all of us were incapable of resisting the colorful treat. 

I brought in the next bag, and Whisenhunt after me. When it was Hunter Frederick’s turn we found he had ordered a ten pound box of the stuff, and we figured we were set for the year. After all, who could possibly eat ten pounds of Skittles? And besides, we weren’t that addicted (we could stop whenever we wanted to, I assure you).

Well, a few weeks later we had eaten ten pounds of Skittles. When my classmates learned that I was going to visit my brother at college in Colorado, all they could think to ask was whether I could bring back Skittles straight from the source. Needless to say I returned with Skittles. They did not last a day, and we were once again left wanting.

At this point we all knew we had a problem. We even admitted it to each other. Whisenhunt, who was clearly the worst of all of us, was a constant source of jokes and friendly quips from Mr. Lipp, who had somehow, at least to the best of our knowledge, managed to avoid our fate, and had not eaten any Skittles.

When asked to comment, Whisenhunt could only respond “I need Skittles, bro.” Mac Spear seemed to take heart in the fact that at least he was not as bad as Whisenhunt, saying that his reputation would remain intact because Whisenhunt would “draw all the fire,” and he felt comfortable knowing that “John Walter would always be worse” than him in terms of Skittles addiction.

For my own part I feel that I have made some progress in my addiction as I have been able to bring forward and admit the suffering of my classmates and me.

Whisenhunt, for his part, has been found on the floor screaming at the thought of not eating Skittles, and has at multiple times been found secretly snacking on his own bag of the candy. All of us are concerned, and have suggested that he get help: “John Walter is an absolute addict and he needs help,” Spear said.

Whisenhunt has said that “he did not care” about what his addiction will do to his reputation as he “doesn’t care about what other people think about him,” and stands by his love of Skittles.