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Robert H. Christ
Mar. 11th, 2005 02:59 pmI'm not a bad kid. I've never been a bad kid.
So I went off for about five seconds on some kid in my English class. The kid's always been an asshole to me, and I told him to fuck off, and then I was done. And then I would've been happy to just go on working. All I wanted to do was edit my English paper. I was proud of that paper, and I'd have hoped Misha would be proud too. I just wanted to print it off and have my peer editing done. Computer problems had me a little frustrated, and I just can't deal with idiots. Next year, I know I won't have to, but I still have 15 weeks in hell until sweet, sweet graduation and I never see Pat Dunn or anyone else again, if I don't want.
So he's harassing me, and I tell him to fuck off. And I really wish that was the end of that. Callousness repaid in kind, but my English teacher feels the need to ask me to leave. I tell her I'm fine, and she insists, and I go. Okay. Just a minute. And I'm trying to get the rough draft to send to the printers in the library and then we'd all be happy right? She'd have me out of her classroom for a few minutes, and when I get back ... I can work. Fair enough.
The thing won't send.
She goes - go.
And I go, just a second!
And she says - no, you can go to Mr. Babcock's.
So I shut down my laptop.
So she calls security. So she acts like I need an escort.
So now I'm not so much angry as I am upset. I go. I get as far as the girls' bathroom, at the end of the hall, where I break down crying. Where I think, maybe I'll stay here for the rest of the period. I'll call someone ... no, everyone is in class. I'll listen to music. God bless Apple.
And the social worker goes "You okay?"
And I go, I guess.
And she asks me what's wrong and do I want to talk.
No. I just wanna' edit my paper. I'll go back to class now if that's okay.
If I'm sure.
I'm sure.
I go back.
She asks me where I went.
And I tell her I was with the social worker.
And she says - that's not where you were supposed to go. Go, now.
Okay, I say. If you need me, I'll be down by the registrar's office, with the social worker.
You need to COME GET HER, says my teacher. She's already on the phone with security.
So I went off for about five seconds on some kid in my English class. The kid's always been an asshole to me, and I told him to fuck off, and then I was done. And then I would've been happy to just go on working. All I wanted to do was edit my English paper. I was proud of that paper, and I'd have hoped Misha would be proud too. I just wanted to print it off and have my peer editing done. Computer problems had me a little frustrated, and I just can't deal with idiots. Next year, I know I won't have to, but I still have 15 weeks in hell until sweet, sweet graduation and I never see Pat Dunn or anyone else again, if I don't want.
So he's harassing me, and I tell him to fuck off. And I really wish that was the end of that. Callousness repaid in kind, but my English teacher feels the need to ask me to leave. I tell her I'm fine, and she insists, and I go. Okay. Just a minute. And I'm trying to get the rough draft to send to the printers in the library and then we'd all be happy right? She'd have me out of her classroom for a few minutes, and when I get back ... I can work. Fair enough.
The thing won't send.
She goes - go.
And I go, just a second!
And she says - no, you can go to Mr. Babcock's.
So I shut down my laptop.
So she calls security. So she acts like I need an escort.
So now I'm not so much angry as I am upset. I go. I get as far as the girls' bathroom, at the end of the hall, where I break down crying. Where I think, maybe I'll stay here for the rest of the period. I'll call someone ... no, everyone is in class. I'll listen to music. God bless Apple.
And the social worker goes "You okay?"
And I go, I guess.
And she asks me what's wrong and do I want to talk.
No. I just wanna' edit my paper. I'll go back to class now if that's okay.
If I'm sure.
I'm sure.
I go back.
She asks me where I went.
And I tell her I was with the social worker.
And she says - that's not where you were supposed to go. Go, now.
Okay, I say. If you need me, I'll be down by the registrar's office, with the social worker.
You need to COME GET HER, says my teacher. She's already on the phone with security.
