No! This is the boring
table. Read the other cell. |
I've had days like that.
I don't get nearly enough sleep (in fact, just now I haven't slept
for the past 3 days,) and so school, as if it weren't depressing
and boring enough, becomes even more so. I stagger out of my house,
bleary-eyed, tired, late, bike to school, almost run down those annoying
old people that keep getting in my way, and finally arrive at school,
where I buy 2 or 3 Cokes so I can keep awake.
After a few days with no sleep, after drinking about
6 Cokes a day, things can actually start to get interesting at school.
Even history class, the most guaranteed info-free period of all, can become
entertaining when you're loaded with caffeine and suffering from hypnagogic hallucinations.
One day, as usual, I lurched out of my house onto my bike,
snapped on my little sensory-deprivation hat (bike helmet) and headed out to school.
The annoying old people were nowhere to be seen this morning, so I assumed that
they were off blocking other helpless pedestrians. Frankly, I didn't miss them
one bit. Did I explain who the annoying old people are? No. OK, the annoying
old people are these people that keep getting in my way when I'm biking to school.
I try to steer left, they move left. I try to swerve right, they shuffle right.
I don't know if they're psychic, or have radar, or something, but every time
I go to school, there they are, right in front of me.
Anyway, I got to school 5 minutes before the late bell, bought 2 Cokes
from the grubby vendor across the street and entered, pausing briefly to meditate on
the Zen-ness of the fact that the stop light across the street says "Walk" and "Don't
Walk" at the same time. I entered the school, a huge building that used to be an eye
hospital and still has asbestos all throughout the basement.(I think.)
The stairs of our school are hard, short, and steep, and I
had to haul my 20-lb backpack up them to my squalid little locker. The locker
is 3/4ths filled with papers, books, gym clothes, and lunches from December.
It has a non-School District padlock on it, since the dinky school combo-locks keep
getting stolen, or at least mine was for three years in a row. Last year, after a 7th grader
and an 11th grader got busted for having pot, the school ran a series of locker searches,
and understandably enough, mine was thought to have contraband in it. All around the
top of the lock are small nicks where they tried to cut through it with bolt cutters,
then some dents near the base when they tried to crack it open. Finally, they must have said
the hell with it, because they removed my locker door from its frame, dumped all of the apples
and papers and books and gym clothes out onto the floor and left them there.
But I digress again. I loaded more books into my backpack
(which is also filled with books and papers and small ecosystems) and headed down to
advisory. There I said hello to Gumbug,
Redgoat, and Eithne. In the
front of the room, Joey, El Presidente and Fearless Leader, was trying unsuccesfully
to read the announcements:
Joey: "OK, class, the -- SHH! Nick! -- the announcements
for today are -- Nick! SHUT UP! -- are that there's a --
NICK! I'M NOT GOING TO SAY IT AGAIN!!! -- there's --
Ms. Bravo, Principal, Lord High Executioner (over antique PA system):
*kshthggtk* "Good morning. May I have your attention?" (pause)
"Good morning, boys and girls. A reminder: Resistance is useless.
Have a good day." *ktgghthsk*
Joey: "Now, the ann -- NICK! AAAAAH!"
(gouges out own eyes in frustration)"
My homeroom was filled with freshmen; the ones in the front were
industriously completing the history project due the next period, the ones in back were
studying new and exciting methods of beautification. The ones furthest in the back
should probably have their lockers searched, as they flagrantly disregard the
legal age for usage of tobacco products. The ones in the middle of the room were
myself and my friends. We looked at the ones in front and laughed. We looked at the ones involved
in hairdressing and eye-shadowing activities; I mentioned that Roman women actually used
galena, a lead ore, for eye shadow. I would not miss a lot of these people if they, too, died
of lead poisoning...but I digress yet again.
First period is math. I don't like math. However, I am always amazed
by how cheerful my math teacher is; every morning, first thing, she chirps and hums:
"OK, now we're doing....trig!" I swear, she must be on some kind of controlled substance,
because no normal, rational human could ever be as enthusiastic about math as she is.
I just sat there and let the
equations wash over me, thinking about how much I'd rather be at home, how my father
had cut school when he was my age and why couldn't I? While staring off blankly into space,
I hit upon a vital truth regarding the phrase "head over heels": Your head is supposed
to be over your heels. Presumably whoever came up with the phrase meant "head under heels"
or "heels over head."
After math is health. In health class, we watch a film about teen suicide.
It strikes me that we should really have films that show both sides of the
issue. I mentioned this to my health teacher, but she looked worried. I think now I'm on the
Teen Counseling list.
Next was lunch. We have lunch at 10:30 AM in my school. Consequently,
few high school students eat breakfast, which causes them to do poorly in their prelunch classes.
I don't care; it's 47 minutes of freedom, even though we're cruelly denied the opportunity to
go across the street and buy Coke or General Tso's Chicken. Instead, we're forced either to buy
the school lunch (click here for a humorous story regarding the
school lunch) or bring our own from home.
My friends and I all sit in a circle in the hallway, blocking pedestrian
traffic and occasionally shoving one another into the broom closet. (I seem to end up there more
than anyone else; once I was in there, with my lunch and a book, for 20 minutes.)
In the circle, I decide to make everyone members of the Spice Girls;
VeggieSpice (aka MonoSpice) runs around and hugs people,
PreppySpice runs around and threatens people,
RenobSpice withstands constant taunting, CelticSpice sits and offers her opinions, I
(CyberSpice) plead for attention, Kung-FuSpice threatens to kick peoples' asses, whether they
deserve it or not, and SuburbanSpice refuses to
believe that she really does live in the suburbs. (
Email her and tell her she
does!)
After lunch is Biology. Biology is a good class. The teacher, Mr. Mealey,
has strange and wondrous powers, so all of his students live in fear and awe of him. We were
especially fearfull and awed today, since he was deeply engaged in an argument with Anthony, who
refuses to accept anything Mr. Mealey has to say. Today, Mr. Mealey has given us a heredity
problem: A man with normal vision marries a woman whose father is colorblind. What is the
possibility that their child will be colorblind?
Anthony: "Whose father is colorblind?"
Mr. Mealey: "Anthony. Have you cleaned your ears out recently? I told you.
Twice. Everyone else heard me."
Anthony: "I just thought it was kind of ambiguous, that's all."
Mr. Mealey: "Ambiguous." (pause) "Do you speak English, Anthony?"
Anthony: "Yes, I do. Whose father is colorblind?"
Mr. Mealey: "Anthony...I challenge you...to MORTAL KOMBAT!!!"
(he leaps over Anthony's desk, rips
his heart out, and merrily begins to feast on his flesh)
Though we were startled, we weren't really surprised; everyone knew that
Mr. Mealey was bound to snap, and we knew that Anthony would probably be the first to go,
so his messy death wasn't that much of a shock and few tears were shed. Mr. Mealey went back
to the front of the classroom and continued with the lesson. His point had been made: listen
or die.
Next was history. I can't remember a single thing about world history
from this year; I was sleeping, or talking, or staring off into space. I had opened
my eyes wide (I can sleep with my eyes open. It's more like "Sleep Lite" actually.)
and was ready for a restful sleep when the fire bell rang.
Free period! Everyone knew that if there was a fire drill in the middle of
class that no real work would be done for the remainder, so we all scampered out, making
jokes along the lines of "maybe it's a real one this time."
It wasn't.
As it turned out, it had just been a merry prank played by the seniors.
(Setting off the fire drill bell is their idea of humor.) So I was able to get my sleep.
Next was Spanish. I like Spanish a lot, and I like the teacher,
Mrs. Davidson, a lot, and I'm really good at Spanish. That being said, it is the period that
takes the longest to finish. During Spanish I've actually scripted a Twilight Zone episode,
entitled "Ay, Chingada: the Spanish Class That Would Not End." But I actually enjoy Spanish a
lot; I'm good at it, and it's kind of fun to speak another language.
Then there was English. Seiji (PreppySpice) and I like English.
First of all, the class is, like, a guaranteed A, and the teacher, who is extremely nice, has
almost no control at all over her students. "Please, guys! Please be quiet! Please?"
Ha ha ha...it's almost a shame. English was uneventful; we all read
Romeo and Juliet for a while, and I passed the following note to Seiji:
Literary genius my ass. Shakespeare
a) was a perv [(our English teacher keeps pointing out the dirty jokes)]
b) was a plagiarist [(Everything he wrote was based on something else)]
c) couldn't spell for shit. Let alone his grammar. [I know, I know...no rules...right.
I don't believe that for a second.]
After English, school was over. I went to my locker and opened the door,
being careful not to let any of the crap spill out. Eventually I'll have to clean it out, but
for now I'm perfectly happy to let it stay in its current squalid state.
|
This is another boring cell that
I'm just using for spacing. Read the center cell. |