Today I was reading my sister's blog. Mom brought one post to Dad's attention, and I figured reading her blog was better than watching the news. Frankly, I got bored after the first news story I ever watched...ever. But anywho, in reading, I said to myself, "You know, I've got this thing here, and I haven't written anything in some time. I'm going to write a blog post today!"
But then the question came to myself, what on Earth am I going to write about? Whether other people agree or not, from time to time I can be an interesting person, and as such have many things to say. So I made a very wise decision, considering the fact that at this time of day I'm in my goofy state. I made the decision that rather than strain your eyes reading who-knows-how-many individual posts, I'm going to summarize what I was going to put in those posts into a few sentences and put it all here. Bear with me, all right?
When school started 2 weeks ago (school for us in the city started at the regularly scheduled date, which I'm sure some people were disappointed by), I was prepared to have last year's English teacher again. I was surprised to see her room almost entirely cleaned out at Orientation (aka, Paperwork Day) (awesomely enough, the seat I sat at was directly across from the door). I was naturally surprised to learn that she got a new job, but was nonetheless pleased. Though she was not my favorite English teacher, and like a nerd I do have them in a list, I certainly hope she is happy in her new position. Additionally, not only has Ms. Russell left the building, but so has half the staff, including the vice-principal, the science teacher I hated, the Spanish teacher, Mr. Spangler (Mrs. Crockett's replacement), and I think Mr. Allchurch's replacement. I haven't seen her around.
On the topic of Mr. Allchurch, he left. Obviously. In mourning, I took the "Doctor Who" logo out of the front of my AP Biology notebook and have not yet put it in another one. Mr. Allchurch was my favorite science teacher, is on my Top 5 list of favorite people of all time (taking spot number 2, second only to my Mom. Hi, Mom!), and is the only teacher that I still have all the work from. I nearly idolized the man and as such have been in defense of him at least twice. Last year, the AP Biology teacher criticized his teaching style. I'm okay with criticism of anyone. We all need it, but as a Word Weaver, proficient in knowing which words to use and when, I could tell that she absolutely detested the man. This bothered me. You don't think his style of lectures and board notes works? Excuse me, this is a teacher who seldom gives out A's and tells his students this at the beginning of the year, and guess what I got on every report card and nearly every assignment? Would you like documentation? The second time occurred just yesterday. It wasn't so much an affront to Mr. Allchurch as it was to science (and human intelligence), but in my mind, the two are irreversibly linked. The person sitting next to me in my Ecology class said that he "liked Biology more than science. Biology is like the animal body and stuff. Science is all mixing chemicals and stuff." Irked at being interrupted from my book by such a comment, I turned to him and said, "Biology is science." He was unaware of this. I continued, "It comes from the Greek 'bios', meaning 'life', and the Greek 'logos', meaning 'science'!" (Well, technically it means "study of", but my underlying point was valid.)
I know how to make homemade ice cream! In saying this statement to myself, I also discovered that I know how to punch a canary, laughed, and then proceeded to list the steps to myself, because why not? Step 1: Find a canary. Step 2: Ball hand into fist. Step 3: Draw fist back behind head. Step 4: Lunge fist forward into canary. Step 5: Run.
I love our new vocal teacher. She is like Mrs. Crockett, Kantor Rosebrock, and Mrs. Kantor combined, and I love it! If not for needing a schedule change, I would have gladly remained in the position of having her every day. But I did need the schedule change.
Here's a story: I didn't have Government on my schedule. In order to graduate, I need three Social Studies classes. I can get these 3 classes by having an AP History course, but history is not my cup of tea. I would not enjoy the class. So that left Government or I think Law. I've only heard about the Law class. I was in the room once, but not while class was in session. It seems to me as more of a legend than an actual thing. I only know one person who's in the class (the same person I mentioned earlier who didn't think Biology was science), and it seems like the kind of thing Greek legends are about: Wrapped in mystery and so difficult to conquer that only a few people seem to go after it and come out of it alive. But anyway, I needed to add Government to my schedule. No problem. I'll wait till schedule change forms come around. I don't like dealing with my counselor (neither does anyone else who has her. I personally refer to her as the dream killer, because she does not offer encouragement to people when their career choices are relatively unattainable), but I need this change. It's a few days in. I have to assume that she just hasn't gotten down to my name yet. It's an "S". I've gotten accustomed to it. But at lunch just yesterday I was talking to my friend Kelly (Sykes, same counselor) who also requested a schedule change. She told me that the counselors weren't even looking at the forms placed on their desks because there were so many, and the only way she managed to get a schedule change was because she put her form directly into the counselor's mailbox. I said, in stark disbelief, "Are you telling me that I'm not getting my schedule change because of bureaucracy?" She nodded solemnly. "The same bureaucracy I'm trying to get into Government class to learn about?" She nodded again, laughing at the irony of it. (I got my schedule change today, exactly how I wanted it, too. I was surprised.)
I finally have Mr. Drennen as a teacher! Barely 2 weeks in and I love it!
I've only known my new Spanish teacher for a day, and she's okay. A good okay, but I really don't know how she works just yet.
I seriously hope my new Ecology teacher is in tomorrow. She was supposed to come in yesterday, but didn't. All her paperwork is done. She's set up the classroom and even assigned work. What? Is she deathly ill? Can she not be bothered to come in to the room? I don't know the story. But I hope she makes better use of Ms. Pillay's room than Ms. Pillay did.
On the topic of Ecology, the invisible teacher apparently likes to assign group work. I don't mind group work so long as it's in the true definition of group work, that is to say, the whole group works and not just me, but unfortunately, my only experience with ideal group work was in 1st grade, and I squandered it because the assignment was so much fun I wanted to do it all myself. My group genuinely wanted to help. They asked me, "Katie, can we help?" "No!" I said stubbornly, and proceeded to work. In this more recent case, my "group", the table I'm assigned to because I picked the number 6 out of a bag, includes the kid who didn't know Biology was science (henceforth "the guy"), and two girls who were in my Honors Biology class. They know how to do their work and get relatively good grades. Unfortunately for me, the guy jabbers on for the whole class period, whether there's work to be done or not, and keeps the other two girls laughing and not working efficiently. And when we all say, "Do some work, man. We've been done for 15 minutes waiting for you," he does this work without any thought (and it's Ecology. The decisions you make can potentially impact the entire biosphere. You want to think about it.) and then goes right back to jabbering. Yesterday we had to write a paragraph about why we decided to donate hypothetical money to hypothetical charities doing hypothetical work for the environment. I decided to give the whole amount (because that was what they asked for) to a group working on researching renewable resources. In the long run, that's going to be the best thing for everyone. But the guy picked an organization dedicated to feeding people in Africa (which I have no problem with, but we have UNICEF. Let them do their job.) and another dedicated to providing free birth control for Africa (which again I have no problem with, but what does this have to do with the living ecosystem? Someone please explain.) and said that this was what "the group" had decided. I made my own decisions and documented my logic on my paper in clear English, and this logic clearly said that I was against this decision entirely. And then-get this-the guy decided that it was my job to write the paragraph, a paragraph about a decision that I had no say in. By this point, I had turned in my individual paper, because I got the feeling that if I didn't turn it in then and there, it wasn't going to get turned in. I return to the table and the guy keeps going on about "what about the paragraph? we can't turn it in without the paragraph. you have to write the paragraph." At this point, I wasn't even aware that a paragraph was part of the assignment. A paragraph of what? This was explained to me. We had to write a paragraph about why we picked what we picked. I can understand the reason for writing such a paragraph. But I had no say in picking what he said the group picked. And I worked hard the whole time, so why should it be my responsibility to write this paragraph. So as he went on and on about this paragraph, I said, "If you want this done so badly, why don't you do it?" He complained that his hand hurt. That's not my fault. And my hand has hurt many times before. I still work diligently, unless there's something else going on with me causing an extra stressor to come into play. I was trying to tell him, gently, why I thought he should write the paragraph, and what does he do? Goes about talking with his friend as if I wasn't saying anything in the first place.
Okay, now I already wasn't this guy's biggest fan. He speaks rather incoherently and keeps asking me to tell him a joke. I'm not generally considered a funny person. I just memorize jokes. First day in the class, I told a couple of my drunk people jokes because they helped me to feel comfortable. The crown jewel of my drunk jokes is one about a drunk Superman, which features in it a series of numbers as Superman and a poor dead idiot jump out of the window. I speak these numbers rhythmically when I tell the joke, but it's only because that makes sense to me. To the guy, this seems to become a trademark of the joke. Monday, I ended up passing by him in the cafeteria as I went to go get an audition form for the musical. He stopped me and said, "Tell me a joke." I said I can't; I'm busy. "Tell the one about the 20, 40, 60, 20, 40, 60..." I kept trying to tell him I was busy. I didn't have the time. But then he starts rapping the numbers, pounding on the table to give himself a beat. I see this frequently and try to get away from this as fast as possible, for a number of reasons. I was busy and wanted to get away from him, so I stopped trying to explain, and just left, hoping that he wouldn't notice me when I came back into the cafeteria. The next day, he said, "Tell me a joke. I didn't get to hear one from you yesterday. You were busy." One, I have to be in the right jovial mood to tell my jokes well. Otherwise, it's just me talking, and I can do that anytime. Two, I only have a limited number of jokes that I tell with any frequency and with any quality. The others I just memorized because they're short, but I don't tell them quite well. Three, he doesn't get even the simplest of my jokes. Here's one:
An old woman who's never flown before is going to get on a plane. She says to the pilot, "Pilot, I've never flown before. I'm really scared. Can you promise me you'll bring me down?" The Pilot says to the woman, "Well, ma'am, I've been flying for 10 years, and I've never left anyone up there yet!"
The guy thought that the point was that the pilot was saying the flying was safe. Tell me if you don't get the joke, please. Maybe I don't tell it right. Maybe it's a bad joke. Maybe it's funnier to read. I don't know. But he barely even got my joke about the two drunks walking into a bar:
Two drunks walk into a bar. The third one ducks.
And fourth, it's not my job to entertain him. I'm out of good jokes now. I can't tell him one ever again. But with that rudeness, I'd had it. That was the last straw. So I moved tables. I said to the guy at the table beside mine, "Excuse me, I want to kill him. Can I sit here?" He was very understanding and allowed me to sit at that table for the remainder of the period. When the guy asked me why I moved, and he asked this incessantly as well, I was tired. I had had enough. I had already gotten sick that morning and felt like crud, so when he finally asked for what I made sure was the final time, I said, stressing every syllable, "I don't like you!" And that was the end of that.
On a more positive note, I was writing a song yesterday, and found it rather pleasing to yell at people who weren't there.
