Sounds like a really bad horror movie, doesn't it? However, there is a room that doesn't exist in my school, and unfortunately, it's my US History class. You know, the one I have to go to twice a week? Straight from somewhere across the (very large) building in three minutes? Which would be hard enough if the room did, you know, actually exist?
First day of school: I check my schedule and see it's room 165. A large brown sign informs me that if I go straight, I will pass all the rooms from 128 to 170. I mentally confirmed that 165 is between 128 and 170, and I began to walk.
I kept an eye on the numbers, having spaced right past the room I needed earlier that day. 155, 156... 162, 163, 164. I blinked. Looked at the number again: 164. It's a room right on the wall in front of me, with no other doors or halls that would lead to 165, or 166, or 170. I frowned and thought that if I stared at 164 long enough, it would change into 165.
I adjusted my backpack straps and hugged my books closer to me. Some students passing me shot me odd looks, but most were already in class. A teacher came by and asked me if I needed help.
"Yes, I'm looking for room 165. Can you tell me where that is?" I asked, wishing my voice wasn't so soft and shy.
The teacher frowned. "165, you say?"
I nodded.
"What class?"
"Umm, US History," I replied, consulting my extremely wrinkled schedule. There were spots that were beginning to wear away from my fingers.
He scratched his head and shifted his weight to his left leg, placing his chin on his fingertips. He bore a striking similarity to the Aristotle pictured on the poster behind him. Finally, he spun around and pointed in the opposite direction. "Try going that way."
I looked where he pointed. "But that sign says those rooms are from 127 to 101."
"Just try it, okay?" he snapped.
"Okaaaay," I said, and started walking down that direction. 127, 126... 114, 113, 112... 103, 102, 101.
I noticed a door and decided to walk through it. The door slammed shut behind me, leaving me in a hallway so dark I could barely see the books clutched to my chest. I heard the same sound my dog makes when he drinks water after a long walk. Squinting, I saw a couple thrusting their bodies together and hungrily sucking face.
Lovely.
I slowly walked down the hall, careful not to bump into any other couples. I studied the room numbers: 170, 169, 168... 166... 165.
I breathed a sigh of relief and walked in, having found my class at last. Just as I entered the room, my teacher said, "And that's the end of the very important and crucial-to-life information you'll never get to hear ever again, no matter what. Class is dismissed."
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
High School
I wrote this huge, awesome (if I may say so myself) post with lots of cartoons (think The Elevator of Doom mixed with The First Day of Sixth Grade), and I decided to publish the post today. So I go to drafts, click "Edit", do a once-over, and start to click "Publish Post".
Suddenly, all the text, all the cartoons, disappear. Just white space. I stared blankly as Blogger did that automatic "Save Now" thing.
And then I freaked. I frantically refreshed to no avail, then x-ed out the tab and rechecked it. Still blank. All the text - all the jokes - gone.
I can't think of anything to say but a big, fat, sad face.
Yeah. So, if anyone knows a way to recover posts, I will bake you virtual cookies or something.
Suddenly, all the text, all the cartoons, disappear. Just white space. I stared blankly as Blogger did that automatic "Save Now" thing.
And then I freaked. I frantically refreshed to no avail, then x-ed out the tab and rechecked it. Still blank. All the text - all the jokes - gone.
I can't think of anything to say but a big, fat, sad face.
Yeah. So, if anyone knows a way to recover posts, I will bake you virtual cookies or something.
High School Orientation
Background: I went to a really, really crappy middle school. I mean, okay, I've seen and heard about worse schools, but basically, I hated middle school with the majority of the fibers of my being. This was the time when I had completely unrealistic crushes on people (actually, I'm not sure this is over), and when I had about, umm, oh, one friend, and when I hated most of my teachers with a burning passion, and it was mutual.
There is an awesome magnet high school in my county, and it's famous for being a nerd school even though it's actually got some really great sports teams. I think. I mean, there are a good deal of sports-related trophies, although there are more for academics and arts and music and stuff. Anyway. I apparently got accepted, and today was orientation.
It was amazing beyond belief. First, almost everyone was ridiculously nice. Except, I had one conversation that went like this. (Keep in mind that I'm horrible at socializing, so initiating conversations and stuff is as hard for me as stepping into a vat of tarantulas.)
Me: Um, hi! I'm Izzy.
Girl: Uhhn.
Me: So... what's your name?
Girl: Uhhhhhhn.
Me: Oh. Um... so what town do you come from? I'm from [you wish you knew].
Girl: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHN!
Me: Uh-huh... so... umm... are you excited for the school year? I definitely am.
Girl: UHHN! UHHN! ARGH! SHRAWWWWK! I WANT TO EAT YOUR BRAINSSSS!
Then I realized the girl was a zombie. Oops! My bad.
But most conversations went like:
Me: Um, hi! I'm Izzy.
Girl: Oh, hey! I'm [some name]. What academy are you going to?*
Me: Science, you?
Girl: Medical. I've wanted to be a doctor, like, forever.
Me: Oh, really? That's neat! I want to be a wri- I mean, I want to be a published author.
Girl: That's awesome! You know, one of my friends is really into writing. She actually got accepted here, too.
Me: Cool, what's her name?
etc.
Did you hear that, bloggy friends? I made conversation with non-zombies! I met people! I talked to people with WORDS that came out of my MOUTH (as opposed to like, my ear or something).
*The school is divided up into different academies, like science, engineering, theater, visual arts, etc.
Also, we played icebreaker games. I think for the first time in my life, the icebreaker games actually made things more awesome instead of more awkward. I remember in sixth grade, my mom made me go to this horrible summer camp where we played this game about the letters of your first name. You had to come up with a hobby that began with the same first letter of your name, so most people were like, "I'm Jenny, and I like jogging!" And I was like, "I'm Isabella**, and I like... umm..."
"Do you like ice skating?" (the counselor would ask)
I would frown and stare at my sneakers. "No, the last time I went ice skating, I fell on this guy, and he hit the ice and broke his shoulder."
"Do you like... iguanas?"
"No, when I was seven, I had a series of nightmares about iguanas taking over the world."
"Do you like... umm... interesting rapists?"
"No, it's not really that fun."
etc.
**This was before I called myself Izzy.
The first icebreaker was pretty basic - we just had to say our name and one interesting fact about ourselves. Normal people said things like, "I'm John, and I play electric guitar" or "I'm Katie, and I sew thongs".
Of course, I had to be extra-super-duper-special, so I said, "I'm Izzy. I fenced for about two weeks, but then I stabbed my instructor in the stomach and he had to to go the hospital and my mom made me quit." And everyone laughed, which was the desired effect, and it gave me the happies.
Except - and I'm not sure if this is a good thing - people have replaced my name "Izzy" with "Stabber". Like, "Hey, you should meet my friend, Stabber" or "Hi Stabber, how's it going?"
One other thing! I changed a bit from June to now, so I was hoping some people who went to my old school and are now going to my high school was notice a couple things, like:
1) The fact that I'm taller.
2) The fact that I'm... umm... more developed.
3) The fact that I have somewhat better fashion sense.
4) The fact that maybe-just-maybe I'm the teensiest bit less socially awkward and shy.
I came across one of these people and took in her new haircut, and she took in me. Then:
Me: Hi! You look great!
Her: Oh, hey, and thanks! You look exactly the same.
Me: D'oh!
This blog post is probably way too long, so I'll stop now. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me your horror stories from middle/high school, the awkwardness of icebreaker games, or anything else?
There is an awesome magnet high school in my county, and it's famous for being a nerd school even though it's actually got some really great sports teams. I think. I mean, there are a good deal of sports-related trophies, although there are more for academics and arts and music and stuff. Anyway. I apparently got accepted, and today was orientation.
It was amazing beyond belief. First, almost everyone was ridiculously nice. Except, I had one conversation that went like this. (Keep in mind that I'm horrible at socializing, so initiating conversations and stuff is as hard for me as stepping into a vat of tarantulas.)
Me: Um, hi! I'm Izzy.
Girl: Uhhn.
Me: So... what's your name?
Girl: Uhhhhhhn.
Me: Oh. Um... so what town do you come from? I'm from [you wish you knew].
Girl: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHN!
Me: Uh-huh... so... umm... are you excited for the school year? I definitely am.
Girl: UHHN! UHHN! ARGH! SHRAWWWWK! I WANT TO EAT YOUR BRAINSSSS!
Then I realized the girl was a zombie. Oops! My bad.
But most conversations went like:
Me: Um, hi! I'm Izzy.
Girl: Oh, hey! I'm [some name]. What academy are you going to?*
Me: Science, you?
Girl: Medical. I've wanted to be a doctor, like, forever.
Me: Oh, really? That's neat! I want to be a wri- I mean, I want to be a published author.
Girl: That's awesome! You know, one of my friends is really into writing. She actually got accepted here, too.
Me: Cool, what's her name?
etc.
Did you hear that, bloggy friends? I made conversation with non-zombies! I met people! I talked to people with WORDS that came out of my MOUTH (as opposed to like, my ear or something).
*The school is divided up into different academies, like science, engineering, theater, visual arts, etc.
Also, we played icebreaker games. I think for the first time in my life, the icebreaker games actually made things more awesome instead of more awkward. I remember in sixth grade, my mom made me go to this horrible summer camp where we played this game about the letters of your first name. You had to come up with a hobby that began with the same first letter of your name, so most people were like, "I'm Jenny, and I like jogging!" And I was like, "I'm Isabella**, and I like... umm..."
"Do you like ice skating?" (the counselor would ask)
I would frown and stare at my sneakers. "No, the last time I went ice skating, I fell on this guy, and he hit the ice and broke his shoulder."
"Do you like... iguanas?"
"No, when I was seven, I had a series of nightmares about iguanas taking over the world."
"Do you like... umm... interesting rapists?"
"No, it's not really that fun."
etc.
**This was before I called myself Izzy.
The first icebreaker was pretty basic - we just had to say our name and one interesting fact about ourselves. Normal people said things like, "I'm John, and I play electric guitar" or "I'm Katie, and I sew thongs".
Of course, I had to be extra-super-duper-special, so I said, "I'm Izzy. I fenced for about two weeks, but then I stabbed my instructor in the stomach and he had to to go the hospital and my mom made me quit." And everyone laughed, which was the desired effect, and it gave me the happies.
Except - and I'm not sure if this is a good thing - people have replaced my name "Izzy" with "Stabber". Like, "Hey, you should meet my friend, Stabber" or "Hi Stabber, how's it going?"
One other thing! I changed a bit from June to now, so I was hoping some people who went to my old school and are now going to my high school was notice a couple things, like:
1) The fact that I'm taller.
2) The fact that I'm... umm... more developed.
3) The fact that I have somewhat better fashion sense.
4) The fact that maybe-just-maybe I'm the teensiest bit less socially awkward and shy.
I came across one of these people and took in her new haircut, and she took in me. Then:
Me: Hi! You look great!
Her: Oh, hey, and thanks! You look exactly the same.
Me: D'oh!
This blog post is probably way too long, so I'll stop now. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me your horror stories from middle/high school, the awkwardness of icebreaker games, or anything else?
