Archive for August, 2009


My favorite school activity is staring out the window

My ride home from school is really one of the funnest things about my school. I take that back. It is THE funnest thing about my school. I take the bus.

It’s how I socialize with new friends.

But, now I have to do my homework. I have no time to blog.

But I have a question to people out there. Do you have any idea where you would keep a Scantron inside a school building? I’ve never seen one.  I don’t know anything about how it would look. Whnever I imagine it I think of a gigantic tower that goes up into the ceiling with all kinds of gears and wires that makes all kinds of weird noises. Something God-like.


One of these days I’m going to go to school in a robot costume

So, TODAY the other thing was that I had my first assembly. The principle wasn’t speaking, neither was the vice-principal, or any parent liaison, or anyone I have EVER seen before. It was some weird salesman guy. What he wanted us to do was to sell weird candy bars and cheap jewelry to fundraise for the school and if you make a certain amount of sales you make a certain amount of money.

When I started to tell my mother about this she asked, “Oh, was this some JR ROTC thing?” And I said, “No, that’s the next assembly.”

Yesterday I was at a community house because my friend was thinking about moving in. The bumpersticker said, “It will be a glorious day when schools have all the money they need and the airforce has to have a bake sale to buy a bomber.”

What my school needs is funding and anti-depressants.


It is a moral injustice to teach art with a textbook

Today in my “art” class at my “arts” magnet school I had to test in to and submit a portfolio for (with six pieces of my work) I was confronted with a textbook. I looked down at it and I read its title, which I now don’t remember, I looked at the student next to me and asked, “What the hell is this?”

“Is this a textbook?”

A: “Yeah, it’s a textbook.”

I stared at it a long time. I was flabbergasted.

You see, you can’t teach art with a textbook because art is a creative thing and a textbook is the very absence of creativity. It’s there so you don’t have to think up your own way of doing things. Instead of a textbook you should just be able to talk to artists and explain what you did and you can look at their art work. I think the textbook must be required by state law or county law. This really depresses me.

Yesterday I drew closing stitches all over my arm. I looked like a badly repaired teddy bear. My mother says it’s kind of cute. My teachers were not amused. Neither was anyone else in the entire building. They would all say, ‘What’s on your arm?” They had this tone like I had a large amount of jelly or blood was running down my arm. I was really confused for the longest time. And then I finally understood and I said, “Oh, you mean the drawing?” It’s like, don’t you draw on yourself too, or did you ever draw on yourself? And they would all just look at me like I had committed some sort of crime or I had chopped my arm all to pieces and sewn it back together.

I passed someone who is sort of considered to be my guidance counselor and he asked me to wash it off, but I said I couldn’t because it was permanent marker. And he said, “Well, OK, wash that off when you get home.” And then after that I was really frightened I had done something punishably wrong. And if I get punished I would get kicked out of my art class and then I would be very sad because I had to work pretty dang hard to get into an arts magnet and my neighborhood school was worse.  It was scary for one thing, which was very scary.

I also discovered yesterday these odd student of the month awards. They were for Kindness, Courage, Respect, Honesty, Trustworthiness, Citizenship. I stared at these for a while, or thought about them for a while, since I can’t “stare” at crap. I can’t even use the water fountain during the change of classes or the bathroom or talk or even think about anything.

The Courage one has some obvious issues. How can you be courageous in a system that runs on fear and get an award for it? You get suspended for courage. And then Citizenship, I wondered what they were talking about there, and then I found one of those weird posters in my school and it said “Citizenship: doing what you feel needs to be done to help your school community.” I’m even more confused now! Citizenship gets you expelled too. And then I started to also wonder about the Trustworthiness and Honesty posters. What’s the difference? Whether you say you won’t lie or whether you don’t lie? And whose to determine whose more honest or trustworthy than others? And then there’s Respect. OBVIOUSLY there was some mistake when they decided to put this one up.  Why are these student of the month awards?

The other thing I have noticed about these posters with the awards on them is that they use Microsoft Word’s Word Art for their titles. And also cheap clip art as the pictures.


Day 1: Why I Write

Why did Roald Dahl write?

Today was my first day of 8th grade.

And well, I woke up really early today. Just barely early enough though. Because I almost didn’t make the bus. But, I did. But, the bus was late. Very late.

After that I got lost. Right after I walked in the front door of school, or right after I walked in. And so, I asked someone, “Where’s my homeroom?” And they  responded with, “Well, look on that sheet over there.” So, I walked over to said sheet and there was a small graph with every homeroom on it. Now, there were two homerooms…wait…

…I should probably add that homerooms are divided by last name. So, there were two marked under “C.” One was “Chi” and the other was “Chj.” I was thoroughly confused. What about stuff that doesn’t start with “Ch?”  And so, I went to the “Chi” classroom. This was on the second floor. 201. My supposed homeroom classroom. It turns out I was supposed to go to “Chj.” I am “Co.” I ran up a flight of stairs and my day actually began.

This blog should have four part harmony. Tonight I hard “Alice’s Restaurant” for the first time. I recommend it. For people who have lots of time.

When I got home my mother asked me why she got a call from the vice-principle.  And she gave me a chocolate.  This blog entry is about that. So, I told her. I had called my principal a hypocrite.

There’s just an abundance of these posters in my school that say something that is completely true in this weird, flouncy bubble writing. “To earn respect; give respect.” I agree with this and I’m pretty sure all the teachers do too. When I got to lunch there was a problem though. The principal was standing in the cafeteria, at a podium, on the stage, with a loudspeaker. And she said to us beneath her:

“You may only get up twice. Once, to get your lunch, and the second time, to leave.”

And then she said:

“Smart people choose the small line.”

This irritated me. Then later, as some people chose the longer line, I was blinded by noise. She screamed over the loudspeaker “What are YOU doing? SMART people choose the smaller line.” She repeated this message 15 times.

I brought my lunch, so I had not gotten up once. I had two get-ups to spare. So, I finished my lunch, and then I stood up. I walked (all cool like) to the podium, directly beneath her. She faced me and said “What are you doing out of your seat?” I said “Don’t you know about those posters?”

“They say, to earn respect you must give respect first. I’m pretty sure you have. I’m not feeling very respected right now. ”

She said: “GET back in YOUR seat.”

I said, “No.”

Then I heard over the speakers, “Mr Miller, can you please come here?” So, Mr. Miller came up to me and her and she said “This kid thinks he can just walk around here and tell me how to run MY school.” I said I wasn’t just walking around. I have a message. Miller said, “What is this message?”

“That you should give respect to get respect.” He took me to the office. In the office we went way back in there to the part that looks like a bomb shelter. And he asked me, “Why did you do that?” I said it was because I was hurt. And he asked me why. So, I told him (in four part harmony), this nice long winded story about how I have this thing about being disrespected. I don’t like it. Everyone in the office said my stry was “interesting.” Then they called my mother and sent me back to class.

At Target, me, my mother, father, and baby brother Ob couldn’t find all the supplies on my list. My mother signed the note I brought home telling her what I needed. And then, she helped me start this blog, after we listened to the original anti-massacre.

What exactly is four-part harmony?

August 2009
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