Ah, gym class. An ancient relic of a simpler time when girls went to college to find husbands, people actually said “going steady”, and bullying was just a common and healthy part of growing up. Over the years as everyone became more politically correct and old white guys started complaining about how “Your generation is getting soft,” gym class has evolved. Now “Physical Education” is a state-mandated time for everyone to learn about “fitness”, “health” and all those wonderful things.

Gone are the days where clothes were stolen from gym lockers and asshole jocks broke the nerds’ glasses. Gone are the days of dodge ball and public humiliation. Now every school is starting to embrace this new era of “physical education” where everyone is included.  It’s less about beating each other to a pulp in a fit of teenage angst and masculine dominance and more about what we all know school is really about: education. Now this class is simply about being healthy and learning tools to help you succeed in the real world. Well, similar to communism, this new age gym class is better in idea than practice.

The idea that gym is required to be able to graduate infuriates me. You could be taking a personal finance class to help yourself live in the future. You could use that half credit to fit in an AP science. You could take another art class to help expand your portfolio for Art College, but no. Apparently it is more important to spend a period being humiliated and hit with various types of spheres than it is to take a class that will actually help you in your life.

If you’re not particularly inclined to throwing gross foam balls, running, or doing pushups, you probably dread gym class. The only point of this is for the kids who actually know what they’re doing to show off and try to prove their dominance over one another while making everyone else who has no clue as to what they’re doing feel exponentially inferior. There’s really no way to win either. If you try to participate, a guy who looks like a thumb trying to show off hits you in the face with a f**king soccer ball, but if you sick to the sidelines you get a C because you “don’t participate.” It may seem like there’s no way to avoid serious bodily harm while also maintaining a 4.0 gpa. My friend, I am here to tell you- there is. Follow these somewhat simple, situation-dependent steps and say hello to a higher grade, some semblance of dignity, and fewer bruises.

First: you need to analyze your gym teacher. Throughout my ten years of school I’ve discovered there are two species of gym teacher, one I’m going to call the very-obviously-trying-too-hard, or, the “trytoohard” for short. This teacher probably had some sort of career in athletics in the past. Maybe they were a professional badminton player, or maybe they just have some sort of Napoleon Complex. If you’re really lucky, maybe a combination of all those things. If you are actually lucky, you might have the other species of gym teacher. An apathetic, tenured teacher who has been disenchanted by their many, tiring years of trying to teach apathetic, privileged teenagers how to play tennis. If you have this type of teacher you don’t need my help. You literally don’t need my help. Go away.

If your teacher is a very-obviously-trying-too-hard it is very important that you act like you are participating at all times. This can be achieved in two ways: one, stay in the middle of the action and do nothing, which seems self-explanatory; or two, stick to the sidelines, but always look very engrossed is what is happening. In basketball for example, stay very far away from whoever has the ball, but keep your arms up as if to say, “I’m open! I’m a competent human who can play basketball! Pass to me!” Now if your classmate who has the ball is the slightest bit intelligent, they will not pass you the ball.

There are some pitfalls to both of these techniques. In the former, the possibility of being pushed, shoved, hit, insulted, scratched, or killed by an overly hormonal f**kboy is very very high. In the latter, you might actually be passed to or otherwise forced to participate. Personally I am a fan of the latter. You don’t get in the way of the kids who know what they’re doing, but you don’t just stand around like an a**hole. This technique will not only keep you in good standing with your gym teacher, but also in the favor of your classmates.

Another pitfall is that your teacher may be a trytoohard on steroids (literally or figuratively). If they force you against your will to participate, even if you clearly are incompetent to the point of it being depressing, if you have to take written tests, written tests, in gym class, you have this teacher. If you do, I’m so sorry, I can’t help you. Go buy some ibuprofen and some ice packs and find a good therapist, because you’re in for a tough semester.

Once you have your gym teacher figured out, and your participation grade raised to a strong 80, you’re pretty much set. However, there are a few unexpected challenges you may meet along the way. One of which is the Physical Fitness Test.

Every other year the school forces students to publicly display their physical talents (or lack thereof) and be tested on them. The test includes; push-ups, the classic military torture; sit-ups, the better of the two “-ups”; the flexibility test, which is basically just seeing who has the shortest legs and/or is a dancer; and finally, the pride and joy of the physical education curriculum: The PACER Test.

The PACER Test is what the people who run the physical fitness test came up with when they decided that running a mile wasn’t bad enough, and they needed something worse. If you are from some far off land where you are not tested on your physical abilities every few years, you may not understand this PACER thing. Let me explain in simple terms: you run back and forth across the gym until everyone passes out. The final person standing is crowned the victor and has unlimited power over everyone else until the next victor is crowned. Just kidding (kind of).

Surviving the PACER test takes a great amount of effort, especially on the part of those of us who can’t run for s**t, but, if you really push yourself, you can do it! You’ll be sore, nauseous, and sweaty afterwards but nothing feels better than knowing that you pushed yourself as hard as you could and succeeded! Or you could always just cheat.

Your gym teacher’s species is crucial for this. Having a type two teacher is preferable in this situation. They will allow you to be dishonest enough to pass the test with a less pathetic score. I find a good strategy is to not stop running in between the rounds. Just jog lightly back and forth. As well, your gym teacher most likely trusts you to be honest and sit out when you don’t make it across the line in time. You have to take advantage of this trust and be as dishonest as possible. Don’t sit out until it is absolutely obvious that you have not passed the line.

You may say, “Wow, that’s pretty manipulative, I don’t think I should do that.” That is true. However, it is a dog eat dog world and you have to do whatever you can to survive out here, so unless you can be content with completely suspending your morals, I’m sorry, but you will not succeed.

Another obstacle you may not think about is the locker room. Just when you think school can’t be a judgier place, you have to get naked in front of the very people that you despise. You know that everyone is looking at your underwear and secretly laughing at your lumpy ass or your small bra size and you know that everyone can see that weird birthmark on your back. The locker room may be worse than the PACER test. Maybe you feel insecure about your ability to run or you feel embarrassed because you are absolutely inept at baseball, but in the grey tiled prison of the locker room, you are forced to confront your deepest human insecurities head-on.

In conclusion, gym class sucks, but there are ways to conquer this institution. If you really commit yourself to passing that class and surviving the semester, it can be done. Now go out into the world armed with your new knowledge and do your best. (I am not liable for any damages caused by this advice.)