Homework

Will consume roughly half of my weekend.

Welcome back.

The First of the Last

Of high school. Of reading syllabuses. Of wondering.

It's the first day of the last year of the most awkward four year period of my life.

It's the first day of the last chance that I have to choose where I want to go from here.

It's the first time that for the last time I've stopped caring about whether my friends are in my classes, or what they will be like, or if we will hang out.

It's the beginning of a new year.

And now that I've got the sentimental bit out of the way, may I just say...

High school sucks.

Get me out of it.

Now.

I want to go to college.

NOW.

Oh, and...

Why do I have to wake up so god damned early?

There Are No Words To Describe This Emotion

May I start this off with a word or warning to all you would-be warriors who may or may not have been planning on actually reading this whole post, it is going to be very angry. Please cover the ears of small children and brace yourselves.

So. School's starting on Friday. I'll be a senior. That's cool.

Seniors are supposed to have the easy schedules, yeah?

Yeah...

Didn't work out quite that way for me.

Now, there is a possibility that it may have if my counselor wasn't an idiot, or our administration didn't suck, or the I.B. coordinator wasn't a stuffed shirt.

To ease that blow a little bit, I will say this. I'm sure they're all perfectly nice, friendly people with lots of friends because they're friendly and people like being their friends.

They just suck at their jobs.

Every single year before this one, seniors get their schedules first. Not just a few days anybody else, but weeks. Every year except this one, the only people to get their schedules before summer break are seniors. And every year, the counselors are there and willing to talk with seniors, so they get all of their scheduling issues resolved before summer starts.

Well, fuck that. That sounds like a terrible plan, right?

No. It sounds like a fucking awesome plan! Too bad you didn't do it at all. AHHHHHH.

So I started my summer break with a schedule somewhat like this:

1st block - AP Euro (chosen over AP Psych, which were assigned to the same block by the genius behind the master schedule, so we all had to pick either one or the other. Awesome.)

2nd block - Food science (so I can actually fulfill the practical arts credit that I need to graduate. Congratulations, you guys did something right for a change!)

3rd block - Choir (after much stubborn unwillingness to change, may I add.)

4th block - Empty. (Not a time release, not an aiding block, just empty. Possibility of taking French 4 at Silver Creek, because they will not allow me into the only French 4 class at Niwot, because it's "just for the I.B. kids", and "if I let you in, then it's not fair to the I.B. kids because a student is allowed in one of their classes who doesn't have to follow the same curriculum as the rest of them." Yeah, what the fuck ever. Shut up. You're stupid.)

5th block- Time release. I'm okay with that.

6th block - AP Lit (hey, something else you guys did right! Give yourselves a huge pat on the back. You earned it.)

7th block - Musical theatre (keep in mind that this class is necessary for at least the first two and half months of school in order for me to keep my lead in the show. Remember that. It's important.)

8th block - Another time release. Cool.

Doesn't look too terrible, right? Other than that one small problem of an empty block, I have all of my classes. Except for math. And a real, legitimate French class... Meh.

These seem to be problems that are impossible to solve.

Don't try and tell me that I haven't tried. That I haven't put forth a good effort. That I haven't followed up enough or talked to the right people.

Because I have.

I have emailed my counselor more times than I would like to count about fixing these problems, and every time he manages to take at least three days to respond, and then manage to not answer a single one of my questions.

So, French. At another school. So far, none of the people I've thought were taking it are actually taking it.

They still don't know what block it is.

Meanwhile, I keep hearing of more people being allowed into I.B. French.

So why wasn't I?

I speak more French than a majority of people in the classes at Niwot, of that I can guarantee you. I love the language. I speak it whenever I can, to whoever will listen. I would put myself into that class 110%. So why am I not allowed into it?

Oh, yeah, because if I was allowed in, other people would feel left out.

Wait a second, though. The people who might feel left out? You already let them in the class, apparently. So now who's the one feeling left out?

Me. That's fucking who.

And, I don't have a math class in my schedule.

I'm planning on independent studying calculus. I'm prepared to independent study it. I'm ready to.

Now I just have to wait on them. Are they going to finally decide to meet with me a day before school starts and tell me to find another option because they don't think it's going to work for them? Are they going to expect me to figure something out, or blame me for the problem being worked on so close to the beginning of the year when it's their fault in the first place that it has been put off for this long?

I'm so mad right now, I can barely even start to convey to you the depth of my emotions.

This is just a very on-the-surface briefing of the cataclysm of rage and angry words swirling around in my head right now.

I can't even handle it.

And You're Being Educated?

Oh, school. Nothing like a good long two and half weeks off to make you really appreciate the wealth of stupidity contained within its walls.

I mean, seriously. Some of those people... I wonder how they function.

And it's not only the people who ask stupid questions in class. Granted, there are quite a few of them too, but I'm talking about the people to which common sense is apparently a foreign concept.

Exhibit A: The girl wearing her cheerleading uniform in honor of (and excitement for) the boys basketball game tonight which, may I say, was quite ecstatically publicized. Now, school spirit is great and all. I personally don't really partake in it, because let's admit it, most of the time it makes you look like a fool. But hey, if that's what floats your boat, go get 'em tiger.

But the problem that I had with this girl was that her outfit made me stop and wonder: Why? In the thoughtful way of the cheer coach, cheerleaders all have a cheer sweatsuit for those days when it is not actually mini skirt weather. However, today apparently did not make the grade of "not mini skirt weather." Because this particular cheerleader was proudly sporting a short skirt.

I mean short.

Like, cheer short.

You could practically see her big ol' cheer granny panties.

There is snow on the ground, and yet this girl found it necessary to show her school spirit by sacrificing the outer layer or her skin, and probably coagulating the better part of the blood in her extremities.

Of course, I would be lying to say that I was altogether surprised by this behavior. The cheerleading population at Niwot does not leave the rest of us with very high expectations.

Exhibit B of, shall we say, "challenged" people at Niwot: The ones who don't realize that when they talk and the whole class laughs, it's not because we think what they say is funny. Actually, we just think they're morons.

Now these people are not new. They have been these people, and will continue to be these people, throughout their entire high school lives. I have only been graced with the presences of the most obnoxious specimen this year, however, in my A.P. classes.

You know, just because they're advanced placement classes, I didn't know that having enough obscure trivia about the presidents stored up in your brain that you can answer practically every question on a worksheet that is intended to be a joke in government class was suddenly considered cool. In fact, I'm pretty sure that it's still just an unnecessarily dorky showcase of how little of a social life you actually have. Oh, and the history lesson on the origin of the S in Ulysses S. Grant's name was . . . well . . . yeah. It was nice.

Don't take this the wrong way though. As much as I may want to punch those people in the throat when they start talking, they definitely spice up the lecture material by adding inappropriate peals of giggles to the otherwise sedate and lethargic mumbles and bumbles of the rest of the class. So don't stop with your social inadequacy, please. It's really quite entertaining.

Unfortunately, no matter how many good internal laughs you get out of them, there are some voices that make you go:

"Gee, aren't you glad to hear that voice again?"