I’m the Jane Goodall of high school students — a passive observer who studies anxious adolescents in their natural habitat: the hallway.

As an underclassman with symptoms of agoraphobia — the fear of crowds and other uncontrolled social situations — I merely tried to survive my hall walks.

I would hug the side wall and draft behind bulky upperclassmen, worrying that I was under constant observation (I wasn’t: upperclassmen can’t see freshmen, we can only sense their movement).
But with almost four years of experience under my belt, I’ve learned to master the intricacies of hallway etiquette. As I prepare to graduate this year, it’s time to share my expertise on how to survive difficult hall-walking situations.

Swirling traffic patterns more complex than most city streets and bizarre behavior worthy of Discovery Channel documentaries can make hallways intimidating. To make matters worse, clots of chattering girls frequently clog hallway arteries in the least opportune intersections.

These clots often form one sentient being — creating oxygen-less dead zones that can’t support intelligent thought. Veteran hallway walkers should steer clear of these inevitable clots, treating them with caution, but never respect.

One of the most interesting observations I’ve made in the hallways is the ways students cope with public embarrassment. Stairwell doors are a great place for such a study because some of the doors are deceptively hard to open — especially a door in the A section of the 3rd floor hallway that thrives on humiliation more than Whitman Speaks.

I’ve seen many a naive student struggle with a door only to admit defeat and walk through the adjacent entrance, the tattered remains of their dignity trailing behind them. Experienced hallwalkers need to know the danger doors and treat them with due vigilance.

Effective crisis management is essential in the hallway, and no crisis is quite as desperate as attempting to reverse direction when you realize you’re walking the wrong way. If you find yourself heading the wrong way, subtle reversal maneuvers include turning in at a water fountain, reversing to talk with oncoming acquaintances and — if all else fails — completing the circle to eventually arrive at your destination.
The latter technique should only be used as a last resort: I did it once as a freshman and the shame is as fresh today as it was then.

But as daunting as hallways are when packed with hordes of hormone-addled students, the most difficult hallway situations develop in the seemingly safe empty hallways.

Spotting an oncoming vague acquaintance or past teacher at the other end of the hallway can be agonizing, as both people desperately attempt to act nonchalant between the moment of recognition and the accepted range of eye contact and greeting. Evasive action is the best way of dealing with this threat — ducking into the nearest bathroom is a good escape.

If that’s not possible, you just have to wait it out. Try taking an intense interest in the hallway posters or floor tiles, and take solace in the fact that the other person is going through the same excruciating charade.

Once you master the basics of hallway walking, you’ll gain the confidence needed for more advanced hallway walking techniques (warning: do not attempt unless an expert). When hallway walking becomes so effortless that it’s boring, raise the bar by setting personal challenges. Try splitting oncoming conversational duos just for the heck of it. If you wish to flout your newfound confidence, adopt hallway techniques that buck small-minded conformity for increased functionality, like wearing your backpack on your stomach for easy access.

Students spend about 35 minutes a day in the hallway. Over the course of the school year, this adds up to almost 4.5 days a year. If students take these lessons to heart, they won’t just survive their time in the hallway; they’ll own it.