Established in 1865, Loyola High School of Los Angeles has long been a cultural staple of Pico Union, with its location as rich as its history. You can’t have Loyola High School of Los Angeles without Pico Union, and you can’t have Pico Union without Loyola High School of Los Angeles—or at least, that’s what the board would’ve said before discovering that Nevada has no income tax.
To gain further insight into the abrupt relocation of the school, we interviewed an anonymous member of the Loyola board on why such a dramatic change was happening now. He stated simply, “It didn’t help that we collectively were burning bread on Kalshi.” When asked what kind of bets they were making, he responded, “We all really believed that Kylie Jenner and Timothée Chalamet would break up by April. We believed it so much that half our endowment disappeared.”
Parents were shocked by the tripling of tuition and the nine-hour daily commute, but many were still willing to make the journey for that coveted “Jesuit” education.
Not everyone, however, was upset with the change—namely, an extremely enthusiastic AP Economics and AP Statistics teacher, Mr. Held. He even relocated his classroom to Caesars Palace, as students report that it is “far more realistic than any other simulation.” When asked about the new learning environment, he responded, “It’s great. I mean, you hate to see someone lose, but winning… winning is everything. And like I always say in class—never fold.”
On the opposite end of the spectrum, teachers adjusting to the unfamiliar found the transition far less appealing. Mr. Hernandez, whose classroom is now located in Sphere, expressed serious concerns. His health class has struggled with the overwhelming sensory experience, with last year’s digital shift now compounded by an environment of constant overstimulation—clearly unfit for freshmen.
On another note, one of the strangest developments has been a growing obsession among seniors with shopping at Calvin Klein. It has quickly become the dominant school clothing trend—despite violating dress code policies—forcing Dean Utley and Mr. Torres to work around the clock to contain it.
In the end, Loyola’s future is not looking too bright.
