Sometimes I wonder if teachers know what the hell they're doing.

Like Mrs. Varieur, my english teacher. Yesterday she tells us outta nowhere that we suddenly need to (a)choose a university that requires an essay to be written and (b)write the damn essay. I dont know about everyone else, but I was planning on spending a couple of weeks writing, rewriting, rerewriting, (probably rererewriting) and reviewing my essay with my friends and family. It's not something I planned on doing in a time period of two days, which is what this insane teacher expects me to do. Whatever, that's why 'bullshitting' is one of the many ways you can do homework (one of my favorite ways too).

Or Mr. Heaton, a science teacher from last year. I dont even understand how this guy even got hired, or even moreso, how he remains a teacher. Every day I went into his class he was obviously high on something and would talk about colorful life stories about how he swings his kids around and around on a beach, holding their arms and doing the 'helicopter'. Of course he was teaching about centrifugal forces, but all I really learned was that I wouldnt want him to be my father, because my arms would probably hurt from all the forces.

In general I dont really learn anything at school in the first place. The only thing that most of my teachers do for me is make me recall old facts that I've taught myself years and years ago. I knew how to do limits and integrals and derivatives, and to an extent I still do, so all the math teacher has to do is talk for about ten minutes until a light goes on in my head and I remember everything. Of course they dont do that, they keep going and I have to stay awake lest I loose participation points which are specifically made to be worth around 10% of my overall grade.

I remember during summer when a specific fear began to rise in me for the first time in my life: fear for my own friends' lives. Before this year we were almost all just typical high school students who really couldnt risk their lives if they wanted to, but now it seems like all my friends are strapping themselves to hunks of metal (things that most of us know as 'cars'), and driving around like freaks. I admit that a majority (by a small margin) of us are good drivers, but there are so many people I honestly worry about. Not necessarily because I drive with them, but because I care about them as people, and I would feel really bad if they got hurt. Today one of my better friends was hanging around after school and told me out of nowhere that he got in an accident in the parking lot. And I felt really sympathetic/bad for him. I dont like feeling like that, but hopefully he got something out of my sympathy. So yeah, I thought I'd mention that.

My dad got a new truck today, a chevrolet avalanche. I'm not too fond of it myself, but then again I dont really like trucks or SUVs or luxury cars. I'm kinda biased towards sports cars with their excellent handling/speed/beauty. Nevertheless, it's kinda cool because I might be able to convince my dad to let me drive his old gigantic truck to school every once and awhile, and I can look like a big whiteboy pimp. Which is always a great thing.

seeyaall,
..lj..