An opinion by | KATHLEEN HOUGH

Sept. 29, mods 7/8, history class. I walk in, peel off my brand new North Face jacket and slip into a chair, preparing myself for what I expect to be a gruesome and boring history discussion before lunch. My stomach rumbles and all I can think about is stuffing my face with pretzel crisps and strawberry jello once I get to advisory in 40 long minutes. So, naturally, when the bell finally rings, I sprint out of Mr. Whitney’s classroom and focus on the most important task of my day: lunch.
Same day, end of Activity II, lang lab. As I pack up my backpack and get ready to head across the quad to chemistry, I realize something is missing. Shoot! I left my brand new North Face in Mr. Whitney’s room. I quickly run across the quad, skip down the stairs to the basement of Donnelly, enter Mr. Whitney’s room and scan the surrounding area. Nothing.

My brand spankin’ new North Face…gone in less than 60 minutes. And where did it go? Well, you tell me, STA.

For the past three years,  I have watched black sweaters, water bottles and even granola bars disappear every time I turned my back. I used to think I was just capable of losing everything I touched, but that belief quickly changed when my black, puffy, Patagonia vest disappeared off the back table in my advisory one day last February. Although the vest was found wedged under an auditorium seat two weeks, three mid-day announcements and ten homemade “lost” signs later, I believed someone had snatched it off that back table.
My suspicion was confirmed later this fall. One morning, I put a Power Bar in my advisory cubby, saving it for an after-school snack. When 3 p.m. rolled around, I returned to my advisory, stomach grumbling, only to find that someone had stolen my Power Bar.
And that is where I draw the line. A granola bar? Seriously? COME ON. We are students in a college-preparatory, private, Catholic, all-girls school. We are raised to know right from wrong, and last time I checked, “Thou shall not steal” is still up there on the list of Ten Commandments. If you really want a stupid granola bar, go buy one yourself.

And while we’re on the topic, whoever swiped my 07-08 Peer Helpers half-zip from the cardboard box outside of Ms. Sinco’s room, GIVE IT BACK. I had to pay $24 for that sweatshirt and I never even got to wear it because when I went to pick it up after the order came in, someone had already claimed mine. News flash: that half-zip isn’t yours. BUY YOUR OWN! And return mine to its rightful owner.
And, finally, as for those of you who swipe things off the lost-and-found table, CUT IT OUT. Just because you have never heard of Rhonda Lewis, the name written on that pink Nalgene bottle, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to take it. Yes, Rhonda Lewis actually exists. And yes, that indeed is her water bottle. So just put it back and walk away.
I am embarrassed that in a place where we are taught mutual respect, integrity, compassion and justice, there are actually girls stealing things from one another. The fact that I can’t leave my water bottle unattended for five seconds without one of my fellow peers snatching it makes me sick. It’s like I don’t even know you people anymore; I’m living among a gang of thieves.
I know, I’m being dramatic. But I can’t afford this madness anymore and neither can my parents. Times are tough, ladies. Coats, sweaters, jackets, scarves–even pens and pencils–are too expensive to be constantly replacing.
So please, STA, I beg of you: if that North Face jacket in Mr. Whitney’s room, that Peer Helpers half-zip in the cardboard box or that water bottle on the lost-and-found table isn’t yours…don’t take it.