In the past few weeks I have decided to do these things:
- Rebel against a certain rule in my school
- Write a letter to the editor of the local newspaper about the yelling at lunch, which continues three months into the school year
- Attempt to lobby for funding for schools across the US
The first item on my to-do list I started three days ago. The rule is that anything worn above the waist may not have a lining. Are we a kosher school? Not that I’m aware of. Anyway, so you may not wear any outdoor jacket, even if it does not in fact have a lining, because they’ll just guess it does and they are always right. I’m wearing my jacket to school every day. I tell other kids to leave their jackets on too. And when the principle tries to take them away I say, “Don’t do it.” Goodbye cruel world. I have not gotten in trouble because the only people who care, the principle and the vice-vice-vice principle, have yet to see me in Fall attire. Sometimes it’s too hot. My teacher and the vice-vice principle saw me and they told me to take off my jacket and I said I couldn’t do that, but they said that if I got in trouble so would they. I felt sorry for them and I took the jacket off — for them. Every teacher I talk to about this issue says they think it’s silly.
I am going to write the letter to the editor today. It will be on my blog soon. Goodbye cruel world. Part of my letter is about my protest of the yelling a few weeks ago where I held a sign up at lunch that said “Please give respect. Please don’t yell.” “Whose yelling?” said the vice-principle at the podium, but then he took his eyes off me to yell at another student. When I held up the sign it was like I was holding up the head of Satan. Some kids covered their eyes and leaned back and were screaming, “Put it down!” Some of them tugged on my arm. The entire cafeteria looked at me through their fingers and it seems like everyone knows my name now. Everywhere I go kids say, “Hi, Mac.” But the teachers still call me Thomas. The principle calls me Thomas, as opposed to “young man.” The vice-principle knows my name is Mac. As does the vice-vice. Let’s hope the information never passes down to the vice-vice-vice, one of the 137 fallen angels.
My final act is still in the planning stages. So far it involves screaming at the White House. By the way — trivia: over 50% of US tax dollars go to our military budget. Before a nurse called my mother and told her to pick up Thomas today (I was sick; I think I have an ulcer) I was talking to the two nurses about how our schools need more funding so we don’t have to sell stupid fake jewelry just to buy toilet paper. They said, “Well, you can try to do that…” And I said “Sure, I think I will.”
And, hey, my birthday has passed. I’ve lived on this planet 14 years. I’ve lived on Jupiter 128.