On Wednesday of last week we began a new semester, which means new classes. New teachers, new people, renewed sense of diligence- though it's quicker to fade this time, like so many hits of a drug.
I can say that I liked last semester better. THIS IS TOO MUCH WORK. One of the things about me that you may or may not know is that I absolutely hate working. In all circumstances. Which really doesn't meld well with my sense of living up to expectations, of being successful. But anyway. I hate work.
My schedule is Honors English 1, Honors Chemistry, Spanish 2, and Honors World History. So English is okay, except we have a lot of work and our teacher is wholly uninteresting and unimaginative. She seems reasonably nice, though. I have a lot of friends in there; including some friends I haven't seen in a while. We talk a lot in class. I'm sure our teacher already hates me. Actually, I bet she likes me because she was impressed that I once used the word 'solidarity.' Go figure.
And then I have chemistry, which is pretty much a complete clusterfuck. First of all, I'm the only freshman in a class mostly populated by juniors. I have no idea why I decided to do this. Actually, yes I do. I want to go to Science and Math so that I can be successful and have everyone I used to know say, 'oh yes, she was a bright girl and went very far in her life.' That's really all I want. But anyway, the painful reality is that I sit next to a boy named John Adams who I asked if his middle name was Quincy to break the ice and he blankly stared at me. Also, we are lab partners for the rest of the semester. Chemistry, for what it's worth, is also a lot of work.
And then Spanish, which is definitely a lot less work. Also, our Spanish teacher is kind of racist in that he says things like, 'All Nigerians will hack your computers.' in the presence of a Nigerian student. At which point, I say, 'Hey, that's kind racist.' and he's like, 'No it's not! Political correctness will be the death of us!' and I say, 'It's a matter of showing respect to the people around you.' And he proceeds to apologize to me, and I say, 'Maybe you should apologize to [the Nigerian].' which he promptly does. HAHAHA TAKE THAT ASSHOLE, is what I said in my head. But not out loud. I think he likes me though. Because he remembers my name. It could also be that he hates me so much he has learned my name. But I don't think so, because I sometimes laugh at his overly intellectual jokes about Ebonics and Latin.
And then I have World History, with a nice but young and rather inexperienced teacher. She is very Southern and very accommodating. I do not feel that the class will be exceptional, which is disappointing, because I really like history, but it will be adequate. Also, she has a strange and obsessive compulsive notebook organization strategy we have to use, and it's especially upsetting to me because I have my OWN obsessive compulsive organizational... things.
Also, we have driver's ed this week and next. Which means, we get to sit in the cafeteria from 3:10 to 6:45, with a ten minute break at five. And also that everyone wants to kill themselves because this man could be the most boring teacher possible. Some interesting points included him telling us that we can remember 'Regulatory because it rhymes with Mandatory', describing a girl getting her thumbs ripped off in a car accident, or something, and him crying as he describes a recently deceased college student, who, may I stress, he has never met. Also, have I mentioned that the class is nearly four hours long? It's miserable. We have assigned seats. Also, I eat dinner at like, five. I am feeling lightheaded and nauseous by the time I get home at seven.
Other highlights include a boy I know thinking I think it's funny when babies die. Which I don't really, by the way.
ANDDD. I don't have anything else to say. I'm sorry. I'm sure this was very disappointing for you.
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