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Let's Talk About School. ( Demented Teachers in Specific. ) |
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Here in the lovely western corner of our beloved state, there are six schools worth mentioning, all with different reasons for doing so.
Mulvane.
Circle.
Goddard.
Derby.
El Dorado High School.
and OIL HILL.
Now, the reasons range from good football teams to good plays to the top three test score in the state. But sadly, for my school, it is not known for any of those glorious and ego-inflating things.
Oh yes.
My school is known as the "poor" school. Because for the last five years, the students could not walk to class without the sewage raining from the ceiling, vodka in the water fountain, or the school lunch getting boycotted by the "Vegetarian Activists" - (Who really arent vegetarians, they're PESCITARIANS [fish eaters] but w/e.)
And now, after five years, five torturous years of the only time it being dry inside our monster of a school (Which is actually an ex prison, not even kidding-) is when its raining, they have FINALLY finished construction on our shiny new, two level school building.
Now, there are a number of nifty things that come with this new school building, a brand new courtyard, walk and all, new lockers, respect from the other school with no maturity whatsoever, etc. But sadly, there are also a few downers with the loss of our old prison.
See, I left my shirt in the changing room.
My favorite shirt.
It had a mosquito sucking from a brain on it.
I loved that shirt.
But I left it in that room and now im never going to see it again no matter how much I beg my principal because he is IM-BLOODY-POSSIBLE.
What is it with teachers and this 'holier-than-thou' attitude? I mean, yes, you're old, you've been around the block three billion times, but I'm young, I'm spry, I have new, fresh Ideas that YOU drill out of me with your algebra, and your advanced economics, and your government classes, I really do think this place was better off as a prison!
I know they're trying to teach us, but go about it in a way that doesn't make us regret coming to school as if a mutant child had burst out of our stomach, grown two arms and an extra head, and had a hayday nibbling on our intestines.
There is one teacher in specific who I find takes joy in the suffering of the young, shiny, innocent faced youth she teaches.
Born from the fires of Mt. Doom about five thousand years ago, my computers teacher is nothing short of pure , unadulterated EVIL.
She takes joy in giving you a set of instructions harder then learning Latin through braille when your fingers have been cut to bloody nubs, giving you fifteen minutes to complete the instructions, and at the end, when you're not even near completing the worth-nothing assignment, she tells you its a fourth of your semester grade.
This woman needs a husband.
No, I take that back, I wouldn't wish her on anybody.
And sadly, I'm sure somewhere out in that wonderful expansive world we live in (but refuse to go out in-) there are teachers worse than or even scarier than mine.
I'm just kinda happy I don't know them.
Until next time,
Toasty
domokun
 vegetablarianism · Fri Mar 28, 2008 @ 06:44am · 1 Comments |
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