School Part 2

The final year was upon me. I went back to the school with my head held high, and a tune from a video game based around school life revolving around my mind. My final adventure was about to begin. First that year was Government and Economics, my only college course that year. I had been planning on playing it cool that year, but Miss Silva had convinced us all that stepping down from that level would be a step backward into harder work, and she wouldn't be lying either. I had heard stories of the difference between Coach Sizzle's (remember, all names are false to protect the people on which they are based) normal classes and college courses, so I wasn't looking at the choice as bad. This teacher's defining gimmick was his countdown clock, displaying the days remaining until the end of the school year, and his own retirement at last. Already a good sign, I remember thinking to myself.

         Classes were set up in an odd/even routine, so classes one/three/five/seven would be held on one day, and the rest on the next day. My next class on that first day of school was English Four, but was actually class three, so try and keep that in mind. Whereas last year I had a jokingly easy English course, this year was to be far tougher, but still rewarding in the long run. Instructed by Miss Mary, my old Creative Writing teacher, I was already on favorable standing in the class, though unlike C.W. she wouldn't be as lenient with the assignments. This was of no consequence to me, as I was also lucky enough to share a class once more with Tina, sitting behind her again. After orientation that morning, my day ended. Rather than suffer through four classes I did not truly need to complete my required courses, I bundled them all up into a single stone with another class. More on that in a moment.

         The next day started with Introduction to Computer Literacy, or something to that effect. My last true required class, aside from Government and English, saving it for my final year guaranteed that the class would count as both the computer requirement and the practical art requirement, eliminating my need to take some form of shop class. A well played gambit, if I do say so. The teacher was a new guy to the school, and I honestly don't remember his name, not that he did much in the way of instruction. The class was filled primarily with freshmen and sophomores, I was the only senior, though that little bit of knowledge was left out for the majority of the year.

         Next those days was D.C.T, short for something.... Anyway, the purpose of that class was general and pointless instruction on the ways of the working world, and how to get a hold of jobs and keep them. Before then I didn't know that required instruction, but the teacher, a Miss Lady, and yes, this was her name, was kind enough to keep us motivated. In other words, she constantly bribed us with food and promises of food so long as we continued to show up for school each and every day. This class was more of an anchor for the real treat: at the end of every day, we were supposed to leave school early and attend a job for work experience. Some left after three classes daily, others, including myself, left after only two. Though I was technically supposed to be looking for work if I didn't have any, that of course never happened.

         A couple weeks into school that year, Coach Sizzle didn't show up for class one day. What's more, the classroom was left barren, devoid of any items that may have been his. There wasn't even any assignments left behind to instruct us in his absence. Naturally, the classroom was abound with rumors, including one that Sizzle had quit because of issues with the principal. This actually turned out to be somewhat true, as we would later learn from our new instructor. Sizzle had gotten into some form of argument with the principal, and somehow managed to quit after using up all his remaining sick days, which after a lifetime on the job without using a single one, meant he could effectively take the rest of the school year off and still get paychecks until the end of the year. Everyone assumed after that he probably moved to a tropical paradise somewhere for retirement. Our new teacher was Miss Silva; not my old American History teacher, but her cousin whom was forced into her first teaching year because of Sizzle's retirement.

         Under Miss Silva, the class was actually considerably easier that before. Where Sizzle pounded us with packets and packets of notes and work, Miss Silva went a slower, more traditional route. Granted, this did little to prepare us for the exam at the end of the year, but it wasn't like I was planning or even hoping to pass it, so I was relieved that in the end, I still got to take it easy that year. As for English 4, the year got off to a rocky start. Every year beforehand, I was technically supposed to be reading some books during the summer, with tests on them once the new year began. None of my teachers before had done this, but Miss Mary sure did. Fortunately, I was not the only one who hadn't bothered to read those books, including such titles as Catch-22 and Anthem, and Miss Mary was far too nice to flunk over half the class, so she ended up altering her lesson plan to allow us all to read one of these books in class. Honestly, looking back, and even at the time, I'd rather have taken a few 'F's than read those books.

         After that horrible forced reading, we started with greek literature, more accurately, Jason and the Argonauts, one of the few remaining greek legends we hadn't been forced to read while in high school, at least where I was. Now, I have nothing against the story, but in all honesty I couldn't care less about his journey to fetch the golden fleece or anything else he did, so it was all a big blur to me. I do remember an assignment, however, one where as a group we had to write, and enact, our own epic to the class. While most others saw this as a painful group assignment, I was actually looking forward to working on it, being one of the few instances in school where I was allowed to be creative. After teaming with Tina and a couple other leftover students in the classroom, I quickly got to work on the epic. Rather than help with the writing, the others chose to enact the poem, leaving me to complete it in solitude... until Tina offered to assist. I had never worked on something as creative as a story with a fellow classmate before, so it was a bit perplexing as to how we would get it done. That is, until Tina offered to come over to my house to work on it one weekend.

         Yes, I know, this is starting to stray from the focus of the tale, but I assure you this is a one time thing. For those wondering, I will not go into explicit detail as to what happened in my room as we worked on the story, I won't even offer anymore detail than what has already been stated. We worked on it for a few hours, came up with some names, and then ended the day with some lunch. Anyhow, back at school, our epic was awarded a high mark, but was slightly weakened by a hammed up performance.

         In Govt., Miss Silva took a more hands-on approach to learning the material, which included such activities as a mock election and mock trial. The first, the election, had two students run for office with the rest of the class acting as the people. The running candidates for president included myself. No, I am not making this up to be the center of the story, why would I? It was done at random, and as my luck would have it, I was chosen. Granted, I wasn't about to be bombarded with a million and a half questions, so I passed on the job to my running mate, and became vice instead, which suited me better. Sam, the new up-and-coming president, was more of a people person than I could ever dream to be, so playing the stoic card by his side was sure to win the election. Until the questions started: our stance on abortion, the major factor on which the election was riding on. Sam, the smart bastard, passed the question to me, and of course, being the quiet guy, everyone was eager to hear what I had to say on the issue. I present to you the only line of dialogue in this entire retelling of school life:

         "I follow the law. The law says that life begins once a person first draws breath, and I stand by that. Until the law changes, this is what I will defend and represent."

         This drew applause from the class, and horrible backlash from the person asking the question. Apparently, she had prepared herself for a great debate on the issue, and was stunned to see that I chose not to state outright whether I was for or against it. Miss Silva later praised me for my excellent mimicry of a politician. I don't remember who won the election, but it didn't matter to me, I had earned my grade for the assignment.

         In English, we started reading another classic, Dante's Inferno. This was a book I had been looking forward to reading since I was a freshman, simply to know how the inner workings of hell looked like and operated. Miss Mary, always one to ease the classics as well as make the assignments creative, separated the poem into individual parts, one canto per student. I asked for the final canto, allowing me to not only go last, but also give the presentation on Satan himself. No, I am not a satanic follower, and no, I am not into devil worship. I just made sure to give that impression in school to instill a bit of fear in my classmates!

         After that, we moved on to the Canterbury Tales. This work honestly inspired a number of my own stories, but after hearing the premise, I was saddened to find out the book wasn't as engaging. I felt the same way after cracking open The Arabian Nights, what a load of boring fail that was (no disrespect to anyone, I just didn't like it). Miss Mary also had this book split into separate assignments per student, though I honestly don't remember what part I was assigned, nor what our assignment was. The book didn't really stick with me, so I'll just move the story along.

         After the holidays, we returned to school to a great treat. Over the break, someone had managed to take an old sign for a local amusement park, and hung it over the school's name on the front of the main building. Now, I will inform you that the majority of the student population was African-American, and let me assure you I have nothing against the people, and this is all true. The park was called 'Monkey Jungle', and the sign displayed over the school's name even had the picture of a monkey on it. It was a day filled with laughter for all students. Naturally, it was taken down during the school day, but the memory is still fresh in my mind. Though the staff found it offensive for the most part, it was still a great joke. Why, you ask? Because the park's slogan was: where humans are caged and monkeys run wild!

         While on the subject of apes, there was one great part of D.C.T that I have yet to mention: the rewards. Miss Lady rewarded those that attended class every day of the grading period with a free large pizza at the end of the period, so naturally a free meal once every two months was more than enough motivation to keep me in school. Now, her classroom was located in the back of the school, and leaving everyday was quite a walk through the crowds at lunchtime. Now, that sign claiming the students were apes may not have been totally wrong, as I learned that first day carrying a box of pizza through the halls at lunchtime. I was quickly swarmed by every student in the area, all begging for a slice of pizza. Naturally, I refused, hoping to devour my prize myself at home over the course of the evening. This caused most of the hungry students to regress into primal apes; after furiously beating their chests, they started after me on all fours. I felt like a character in a movie trying to make it to the safety of the car every time.

         Okay, so that didn't exactly happen, but it's how I remember it, having to run down those halls with a box of pizza. Back in class, our next reading assignment, and one of the last, was Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Going in, I knew next to nothing about the story, other than what's constantly parodied on TV and such. I was surprised to learn that for once, a classic really was a classic, and loved the book. Sure, there were numerous written assignments on every other chapter of the book that hampered the experience, but it was one of the few times where I truly enjoyed reading something in school.

         As the year drew to an end, exams were popping up all over. I know, I went from winter to summer in three paragraphs, but honestly the rest of the school year, like the first half, was uneventful for the most part. Days of computers and D.C.T. were repetitive and pointless to mention, and I've hit all but one of the highlights in my other two classes that year. With the year ending, I was back in the testing room for my Government exam. I'm not going to beat around the bush, I failed it, miserably. But, like all the other college level courses, it didn't matter, I still passed the class with flying colors simply for trying. Man, if only all my other classes had been the same.

         With that worry finally eliminated, we were able to relax for the remaining month of school and take part in a more enjoyable diversion, a mock trial. The position of judge was taken by Miss Silva, sadly; I was hoping I'd be able to play the judge. Instead, I was a member of the jury, meaning my work was limited to passing judgement and sentencing on whichever poor saps failed to win me over. The case was about a drunk driving accident that resulted in the loss of a fetus several months in development. My class was disgustingly fond of the whole abortion issue, as you can see. Well, as to not bog the story down with the particulars, the jury found the guys driving the car to be responsible of Assault with a Deadly Weapon. My favorite part of all this was the fact that I was bribed by the defendants to deadlock the jury and force a mistrial. I took the bribe, naturally, but instead turned right around and convinced my peers to give him the highest possible sentence for the crime. I made sure to detail it all in my report to the teacher afterwards, which once again earned me some praise.

         The last day of school was upon us. The following day we were to walk down that aisle in the auditorium and receive a phony diploma and pose for a picture with the principal. Luckily, the last day turned out to be an odd numbered day, meaning I would get to spend it with my good friends Andrew and Tina. We said our goodbyes, shed tears of both joy and sorrow at our departure, and welcomed the next stage of our lives. Touching and fitting end, no? Well, not in this tale. I spent that last day with Andrew in English playing games while the remaining six students watched a version of Frankenstein that does the written work no justice at all. Tina had missed class that day to get ready for the graduation, so we didn't get to have that last day chat that's so often portrayed in movies about high school. But then again, was any part of my tale like a movie you've seen with a similar subject?

         Now, to answer that one question that's been lingering in your mind since this tale started: why was this written? I didn't do it to illicit emotion or thought, just to share what a normal school life is like. I know that what's portrayed in film is done so to appeal to the audience, but sometimes a good dose of reality is needed to keep everything in focus. This has been my tale of high school life, that of a lone, video game loving nerd that didn't leave a lasting impression on the school, and may never do so in the world. But that's for history to decide later.