My School Defies the Laws of Physics...

My School Defies the Laws of Physics...

MKost of us here on SA has high school to deal with. Some people think that it becomes easier when you become a senior. It DOESN'T. When you get older, it just means that you've got more shit to deal with. Friggin' collleges, Job applications, Apartment leasing, all of it. Work, work, work. Shit out the ass, too much to handle. It's hard enough to think about the future, along with classes to wory about.

I have Art. Well, a form of it anyway. I realy have photography, but at my school, people call it "picture class". It was fine at first, it just got out of hand second quarter. The due dates were comin' in more faster than R. Kelly at a Wal-Mart, hearin' about little girls pants being half off. I couldn't keep up. Multi-shots, sequencing, burning & dodging, the work is a little too much just for a picture. I'm still waiting on my fantasy to come true. I want a nude model shooting, and one of these days, i'm gonna get it. Just for a cance to say, "aw yeah girl, take off 'dem pannies. I wanna capture you in yo' nat-u-ral state and shit". Probably not gonna happen.

I have Science. Or more literaly, I had science. I couldn't take in all of the information the teacher was giving out, whenever he was giving it. The teachers name is "Mr. W", and he's pretty important around my school. The guy hardly teaches at all. Pretty much what he does is go on for an hour and a half about either the Korean war, the Vietnam war, WW1 or 2, whatever pops into his head when the medication kicks in and recalling what he saw last night on the history channel. Along with that, he also rambles on about how much of a macguyver he is. How he made a ladder out of toothpaste, toothpicks, and twisslers. There were others, but I forgot 'em. Not to say that this is a bad thing, far from it. The stories are pretty interesting, and it gets me out of whatever it was he was teaching about. God bless Mr. W, and the men and women teachers like him.

I have Math. Math, although I can hold my own, is not a subject to go on about for 90 minutes. God Damn, Viagra takes less time than that. A solid half hour is sufficient enough. Venn diagrahms, programing Ti-83 calcs, Bases of 4, 8, or even 12. It's easy once you get the idea, it just gets repetitive. In my spare time, I have joined the Math Team. 2-3 hours of sitting around with other people from other schools talkin' about math. 30 minutes into that 2-3 hours is spent workin' on math. Doing this for the past FOUR YEARS has made me bitter, and insane. It has just occured to me that Noone looks at the answers I put down, so from time to time, I'll just put an obscene word in the space provided. "Oh, look. A little geometry question. Don't make me- TITIES." "My, what a cute little Algebra problem. Maybe if I- TITIES." "Oh. How many pallindromes occur in a 12 hour period. I think i can actualy solve this question. Let's see, there's 12:21, 1:01, 1:11, 1:2- TITIES SQUARED. I should be kicked out in about a week or so.

I have English. English, I find, is not exactly the sort of subject to dwell on after the 10th grade. If people can understand you and your writing, your Pretty friggin' golden for the rest of your life. Journalism is incredably taxing to anyone who doesn't the basic idea the third day in the class. *raises hand* It is an insane ammount of work. Period. No Exeptions. Even to people who like Journalism has to admit it's difficult to come up with a story sometimes. On top of all that, I have a teacher who is, in my opinion, both incredably boring and clearly insane. The other day, a student of his handed in an article early, started dancin' all over the place. After that, stood on his head. He doesn't always do that, it's a friggin' rare occurance, as a matter of fact. Most of the time, he teaches the class in a very monotone voice, hands out a local paper, and off to write another article. Sometimes I can hardly keep up, and fall asleap on the keyboard. Sleep, that's where I'M a viking.

There are more subjects and classes I could talk about, but, luckely, I haven't been in any of them long enough to get a good opinion. Sometimes the thought of school burns so badly, I have to aplly ointment. But thank God it's almost over. Right?