I’ve developed a new plan. This is to send a letter to my school asking to allowed to bring a tape recorder into the lunchroom. My plan is to either post the response saying “no” or post what it sounds like in my cafeteria and send it to my local newspaper. Or…do all three.
Something that has come to my concern is the bringing of escorts to my school. This was threatened by my principle several days ago. I thought prostitution was illegal. My principle doesn’t seem like the kind of person who breaks laws frequently. But she says our teachers need to become escorts. haven’t our teachers done enough for us this year?
Actually, the threat is that our teachers are going to take us from class to class, like in elementary school. Students are frequently in the hallway when the bell rings. I’ve barely escaped the hall sweeps once or twice. Kids are either just messing around or using the bathroom, neither of which is allowed. In fact, we are barely allowed to go to the bathroom at all. It’s kind of like a sweat shop in the 19th century, before unions. We should have a student’s union.
And now for something completely different. I wear this rainbow scarf and I’ve worn it for quite some time. At school and on my bus. I am secure in my manhood. I’ve worn it in front of my bus driver. Now, one day I accidently left my scarf on my bus and some people were messing around with it and tossing it around. It’s a cool scarf. It’s good for stuff like that. My bus driver got mad and threw it away. Later, the next day, I saw my scarf in the bus trash can and asked, out of politeness, “may I have my scarf?” My bus driver said no. I was surprised. And she said, “That’s not your scarf.” I said, “but it is my scarf. I’ve worn it in front of you several times.” We went back and forth about this and then she just kicked me off the bus, scarfless.
I came home and told my mother the whole story and we called the bus lot. The bus lot manager made it sound like the bus driver might be in trouble and I would get my scarf back. Then, later in the day, after my bus driver had returned to the bus lot we were called by the manager and she said “that’s not your son’s scarf” to my mother. She said it was a little girl’s scarf. My mother said, “it’s a rainbow scarf, right?” And she said it was. My mother said it was my scarf. And then they went back and forth about whether or not it was a little girl’s scarf. Finally, the bus manager said, “oh alright.” We’ll give you…ahem…son’s scarf back.
The next day I got my scarf back, from the trash can, except now it had tire tracks and oil stains and smelled like bleach. It had tears at the seams. My bus driver said she knew the little girl who’s scarf that was. I was wondering then, “why then did you run it over?” She said the little girl was mad at me and I was going to be called by this little girl and her family, as they were very angry at me. I said, ok. So far, no call. And a good thing, because the scarf was totaled. They’d be really mad!
We’ve washed it and I’m figuring out how to repair it. But, to those of you who wear rainbow scarves, let this be a lesson to you, don’t lose them. A psychotic bus driver will be waiting for you.