Status: i'll update this as much as i can, and when i can, so be patient, and bare with me. =]
Just a Bittersweet Life
EAGER TO TEACH, BUT WITH DISRUPTIONS.
Walking through those doors, a sudden rush of nervousness washed over me, I don’t know why. I pushed the feeling to the side as I looked around the school as I was heading towards my locker. Everything is the same. Same, from when I started, well with the exception of a new locker being damaged or vandalized. The doors still contained the colour as it did when I first started, just a little faded over time, and the stairs are still the same, the only thing that has changed, is me. I’m older, smarter, I’ve grown up. This is my last year here, and I can’t wait ‘til it’s over! To get out there, in the “real world” and do what I want to do. Enjoy life. Have as much fun as I can.
I reached my locker and before I could open it none other than Crystal Walters walked past with her Brainwashed Cluster. Pushing and shoving people out of their way. I was one of those people who got pushed. First day back and I already hate it! I thought as I scraped myself of the ground. I dusted myself off, and proceeded to open my locker. With no one to push me, I opened it with ease. I grabbed my books and closed the locker door.
I found my legs dragging me towards my usual spot, the lunch area, where I would occupy a table the farthest away from everyone, where I would sit at, morning if I was early and at lunch time. Sitting down, I grabbed my sketch pad and a pen. This was routine for me, being alone helped me to draw. I continued with the sketch I started yesterday. All that was done was a cafeteria. I would add blurred people walking, sitting in the cafeteria. With a very visible table with a male sitting down.
I started on the people occupying the cafeteria, blurring them as I drew. One by one everyone was becoming a blur. I was just about to start on another “blur”, but the bell interrupted me, telling me that it was time for homeroom. Packing my stuff back into my messenger bag, I got up, giving my table a once over, making sure I hadn’t left anything behind. I hadn’t, I moved off to homeroom, with my usual expression, nothing, on my face and walked through the doors.
A few new faces and others stared at me while I took a seat in the back, my usual spot, of the room. A few whispers were heard, but I ignored them, like I always do. They just become background noise along with their faces become blurs. My homeroom teacher, Ms. McKenzie, walked in and soon the noises started to fade. Sitting there as I always do, staring out the window, as Ms, McKenzie took the attendance for the day, not listening, as always. When my name got called, I was still staring out the window, Ms. McKenzie had to look up, she got used to doing this, to see if I was there.
Again the bell interrupted my thoughts, chairs scraping against the floors, chatter beginning as people scattered out the door to head off to their first class. My first class was one that I quiet enjoyed, Art. Grabbing my bag, and walking towards the familiar building, people staring, talking in whispers as I walked past. Wow, how many years, have I been here, and yet I am still of topic! Score! I thought as I heard a glimpse of a conversation, from a group of guys.
“My sister told me she tried to make a move on her, while she was in the bathroom,” one guy was lying to his friends.
“Really?” another guy replied.
“That’s….kinda hot!” a different guy replied, ending up in getting hit. “Ow!” He complained, rubbing his arm where he was punched.
Walking away, their conversation became nothing but a whisper in the wind. Why people make up shit, just to get attention, is beyond me. I thought. Ahh, here we are. I added as an after thought, as I saw the doors for the art room ahead. Once inside, I found a seat in the back of the class, and grabbed my art book, and my pencil case out, waiting for Mr. Johnson to walk in through the doors, and start to teach before his bag hit his desk. He was an eager teacher, who loved his job. A fairly tall, slim man, in his mid 30’s if I had to guess. Always wearing casual clothes. Just as I thought, he walked through the doors and not even in an inch of his table, he started to get right in it.
“Morning and welcome to the last year of school. This year, the assignments will be harder and shorter. There will be 3 big assignments, and 2 minor ones. One of them is going to be a spoken one, and I’m not going to spoil it for you by telling you how big a part or little a part it affects your end of year results…” Mr. Johnson rambled on while putting his bag on his desk, grabbing for the whiteboard marker.
“… so let’s not waste any time, and lets get right into it, shall we?” He said as he walked over to the whiteboard, cap off and started to scribble down words.
Copying what was written neatly on the board into my exercise book, I wasn't really listening to what was going on beside me. A boy was sitting there, with his group of friends, goofing off. I took a quick glance to the seat beside me and saw a short looking boy with short black cropped hair rocking on his chair. This boy was no doubt a jock; I think he's the captain of the soccer team. Turning back to my almost full page of writing, I continued to copy down the notes, without taking another look at the boy beside me.
Later on in the class the boy's friends had thrown paper planes around the class room which earned them a lecture on 'no making paper planes in my class, and do your work'. Others turned to look at the commotion and laughed while they got into trouble, while I waitedimpatiently for Mr. Johnson to carry on teaching. No I'm not a nerd, I just really enjoyed learning about Art. Soon the class was silent again and Mr. Johnson continued to teach.
A couple minutes past and soon the bell rang letting everyone know that it was lunchtime. The sound of everyone talking at once and chairs scrapping along the floor was heard again as everyone was racing out the door, eager to get far away from the classroom as possible. While me on the other hand took my sweet ass time. I finished the note I was taking and then packed everything into my messenger bag so things fit perfectly. I hadn't noticed that the guy with short cropped hair was still packing his stuff up too.
"Ahh, Mr. Wentz, please next time tell your friends not to distract the class with their silly antics," Mr. Johnson said.
At the sound of his voice I looked at the boy he was speaking to and once he found I was looking at him, I quickly turned back and slung my bag on my shoulders and pushed my chair in and started to make my way towards the exit.
"Yes Sir, sorry about that, I told them to stop but they didn't listen," He told the teacher.
I reached my locker and before I could open it none other than Crystal Walters walked past with her Brainwashed Cluster. Pushing and shoving people out of their way. I was one of those people who got pushed. First day back and I already hate it! I thought as I scraped myself of the ground. I dusted myself off, and proceeded to open my locker. With no one to push me, I opened it with ease. I grabbed my books and closed the locker door.
I found my legs dragging me towards my usual spot, the lunch area, where I would occupy a table the farthest away from everyone, where I would sit at, morning if I was early and at lunch time. Sitting down, I grabbed my sketch pad and a pen. This was routine for me, being alone helped me to draw. I continued with the sketch I started yesterday. All that was done was a cafeteria. I would add blurred people walking, sitting in the cafeteria. With a very visible table with a male sitting down.
I started on the people occupying the cafeteria, blurring them as I drew. One by one everyone was becoming a blur. I was just about to start on another “blur”, but the bell interrupted me, telling me that it was time for homeroom. Packing my stuff back into my messenger bag, I got up, giving my table a once over, making sure I hadn’t left anything behind. I hadn’t, I moved off to homeroom, with my usual expression, nothing, on my face and walked through the doors.
A few new faces and others stared at me while I took a seat in the back, my usual spot, of the room. A few whispers were heard, but I ignored them, like I always do. They just become background noise along with their faces become blurs. My homeroom teacher, Ms. McKenzie, walked in and soon the noises started to fade. Sitting there as I always do, staring out the window, as Ms, McKenzie took the attendance for the day, not listening, as always. When my name got called, I was still staring out the window, Ms. McKenzie had to look up, she got used to doing this, to see if I was there.
Again the bell interrupted my thoughts, chairs scraping against the floors, chatter beginning as people scattered out the door to head off to their first class. My first class was one that I quiet enjoyed, Art. Grabbing my bag, and walking towards the familiar building, people staring, talking in whispers as I walked past. Wow, how many years, have I been here, and yet I am still of topic! Score! I thought as I heard a glimpse of a conversation, from a group of guys.
“My sister told me she tried to make a move on her, while she was in the bathroom,” one guy was lying to his friends.
“Really?” another guy replied.
“That’s….kinda hot!” a different guy replied, ending up in getting hit. “Ow!” He complained, rubbing his arm where he was punched.
Walking away, their conversation became nothing but a whisper in the wind. Why people make up shit, just to get attention, is beyond me. I thought. Ahh, here we are. I added as an after thought, as I saw the doors for the art room ahead. Once inside, I found a seat in the back of the class, and grabbed my art book, and my pencil case out, waiting for Mr. Johnson to walk in through the doors, and start to teach before his bag hit his desk. He was an eager teacher, who loved his job. A fairly tall, slim man, in his mid 30’s if I had to guess. Always wearing casual clothes. Just as I thought, he walked through the doors and not even in an inch of his table, he started to get right in it.
“Morning and welcome to the last year of school. This year, the assignments will be harder and shorter. There will be 3 big assignments, and 2 minor ones. One of them is going to be a spoken one, and I’m not going to spoil it for you by telling you how big a part or little a part it affects your end of year results…” Mr. Johnson rambled on while putting his bag on his desk, grabbing for the whiteboard marker.
“… so let’s not waste any time, and lets get right into it, shall we?” He said as he walked over to the whiteboard, cap off and started to scribble down words.
Copying what was written neatly on the board into my exercise book, I wasn't really listening to what was going on beside me. A boy was sitting there, with his group of friends, goofing off. I took a quick glance to the seat beside me and saw a short looking boy with short black cropped hair rocking on his chair. This boy was no doubt a jock; I think he's the captain of the soccer team. Turning back to my almost full page of writing, I continued to copy down the notes, without taking another look at the boy beside me.
Later on in the class the boy's friends had thrown paper planes around the class room which earned them a lecture on 'no making paper planes in my class, and do your work'. Others turned to look at the commotion and laughed while they got into trouble, while I waitedimpatiently for Mr. Johnson to carry on teaching. No I'm not a nerd, I just really enjoyed learning about Art. Soon the class was silent again and Mr. Johnson continued to teach.
A couple minutes past and soon the bell rang letting everyone know that it was lunchtime. The sound of everyone talking at once and chairs scrapping along the floor was heard again as everyone was racing out the door, eager to get far away from the classroom as possible. While me on the other hand took my sweet ass time. I finished the note I was taking and then packed everything into my messenger bag so things fit perfectly. I hadn't noticed that the guy with short cropped hair was still packing his stuff up too.
"Ahh, Mr. Wentz, please next time tell your friends not to distract the class with their silly antics," Mr. Johnson said.
At the sound of his voice I looked at the boy he was speaking to and once he found I was looking at him, I quickly turned back and slung my bag on my shoulders and pushed my chair in and started to make my way towards the exit.
"Yes Sir, sorry about that, I told them to stop but they didn't listen," He told the teacher.