If you’ve ever written for a newspaper or any other periodical, you would know a good deal about deadlines, so called because of what you are if you don’t know what they are. This is especially true at the World, which is host to a myriad of skeletons that decorate the walls and ceiling of our room, much like the Capuchin Crypt in Rome, but with more bulletin boards and computers.

Here, we have had more than a few problems with staff members not getting things in on time. Of course, we are all busy high school students with 8 classes to keep up with, all kinds of extra-curricular activities, and, in many cases, social lives. But still, it is frustrating for everyone when we are days away from a deadline and there are stories that still have not materialized.

We have a kindergarten-esque system with a chart and gold stars that indicate whether people have finished their assignments or not. If you finish everything on time, you receive a gold star sticker, which you can then place on the chart. It’s a great motivator; already, we’ve had three episodes where fisticuffs broke out when writers were fighting each other for stars. We had to call an ambulance. Arrests were made.

At any rate, deadlines tend to catch writers in a kind of Catch-22: if you care about the quality of your work, you don't meet your deadlines, and if you just turn in a shoddy story, you'll always be right on time. This is why most reporters tend to find a happy medium: overwork and excessive caffeine intake until you die of heart disease or kill yourself in your early forties. (And you thought the "dead-lines" joke at the beginning was just harmless wordplay.)

Deadlines can be especially troubling for high school journalists, mainly because one often needs interviews to write a story, and one often needs to talk to other students to get interviews. On more than one occasion I have attempted to hunt down prospective interviews for an entire class period, usually with tragic results:

Narrator (British accent): The reporter crouches behind the tall grass, using his expert sense of direction to intuit the locale of the prey. He saunters stealthily along the corridor, keeping his back to the row of lockers hoping to avoid unnecessary encounters with rival species, notably teachers querying about hall passes. He moves quickly up the stairs, flexing a well-toned calf as he bounds from one step to the next, slip of paper in hand.

(Cut to shot of student dazing in class.)

Narrator: Meanwhile, the unsuspecting prey is sitting, docile, subdued, and completely unaware of its surroundings.

(Cut back to reporter, outside classroom door.)

Narrator: The reporter has reached the prey's habitat, and is ready to enter in an attempt to lure the prey back to the reporter's den.

(Close-up of hand on the door handle. Handle is turned, door is opened, and reporter moves toward the teacher.)

Narrator: Notice how as the reporter delivers the lure, he scans his periphery for the prey. He sees his target at the back of the room, completely oblivious, and mentally calculates that the kill will be swift and satisfying.

(Reporter hands slip to teacher and leaves room, staring straight ahead.)

Narrator: With the lure in place, the reporter traverses the savannah yet again, returning to his lair. Later, as the bell echoes across the vast landscape, he still hungers and the bait has remained untouched. He leaves the lair disappointed, hoping for better fortune on the next hunt.