December 1, 2005
My Boring Day - Written For/In 8th Grade English Class
by AzureSkyy <email@example.com>
Imagine that, for nearly every single day, 9 months of your year, you are a tall, blond, blue-eyed male, 14 years old, a Jr. High student with a funny smile that only a select few are able to tolerate. Imagine that another, separate select few includes over 300 people, who turn everything into a popularity contest, a contest that an even more select few ever win. Imagine further that your parents have the utmost expectations of your success in the whirling hell of chaos / medium security prison that is high school. And without a scratch, scar, or broken bone to show for it. Sounds fun, right? Maybe.
What do you do for a living? I don't care. Why? Because I'm a goddamm angsty teenager, that's why. Because I live 10 years of my life in a brick building with few windows and fewer friends, a building that falls down a little bit more each year, and has it's own expectations of our performance, that rise up a little bit each day. Up for a free sample, anyone? Good.
Cell phone alarm goes off. What do you do? Push snooze. But today, you had the phone backward on the windowsill. So what gets hit? 'Stop' silly. Drifting back to sleep at the same speed you woke up, Mom comes in at 7:23. Slaps you a few times, just for flavor. “Wake up”, says she. As you attempt to drag yourself from bed, you notice the clock display. 7:29. Great ... Bus leaves at 7:35. Good luck. “Have a Good Day,” says your dad from the couch as he watches ‘Combat!', a tired war series on a too-large Tv.
English, first period. You walk in at 7:58, to hear Dustin discussing with Andy what would happen if the water pipes were filled with gasoline and a match was lit under one. Roll your eyes and keep walking ‘til you get to your customary seat in the corner. 8:07, Mr. Berry's lecture starts. Remember to laugh, bury head, and roll eyes at all appropriate times. This is a life-skill. Learn it, master it, live it.
Math. Ever done square roots, and actually understood it? (I nominated that for the 8th wonder of the world, but they turned me down and said I was just a kid. I was given a free tee shirt and told to go away.)
Health. Free time ... but at what cost? Today's fee is an STD lecture. Yay ..? I don't think so.
Homeroom. Proceed to corner, listen to golf talk, pretend to understand. Minimize stupidity. Job complete.
Science. So unpredictable, I couldn't begin to try. But at least the work goes in a cycle. Worksheet, lab, worksheet, vocab, vocab test. Repeat. Insert test every other Friday.
Government ... Here's where it gets good. Ask any student in this school what their ‘least favorite' class is, and the answer, sans hesitation, is invariable: Government. Usually with an added scowl. Here's how the work here is done. She hands us mini-packets. What next? Haha, I laugh at you, you thought she would teach and lecture! Oho no, we grab books, monsieur. For the next 49 minutes, you can A) work like a fool with 3 fingers and a glass eye on an assignment that leaps, bounds, and backtracks through 37 pages of legal jargon, or ... (To those of you that accept that fate? I bow unto you.) No, me, I pick option B) I find my trusty corner and relax, and maybe today Jessica will join me to do the same.
Home Ec. Heh, the woods are thick and reedy in this jungle. One wrong move and the native queen will have you over one of her many fires. Spit and roasted, but marinated first. Goal: Learn one thing per week. Even if it's just from those notes on how to pick a good prune and what foods have water in them.
Industrial Tech. While walking across the hall and trying to beat that bastardly 3 minute timer, stop for a few seconds to be stunned that your day is nearly over! We're on the home stretch. Just hope that nobody dropped their hair in the glaze on your clock, that you don't drop said clock, and that it gets through Kriska's check with at least a B, or you'll be doing it again, lucky stiff.
Well, I think that was a pretty good day. Ready for Finals Week?
Published: December 5, 2005