(no subject)
Okay, I'm so glad Mr. Pettit showed up today. If he hadn't, I probably would've... I dunno. Cried a lot, I know.
Some of you may not know, but Friday evening, I emailed him (which he didn't reply to directly, as you'll soon see).
Mr. Pettit,
This may sound strange, but I had a dream. And for lack of a softer way to put it, it was that you died. Like I said, sounds strange right? But imagine how worried I'd be when next thing I know, you don't show up at school. I've heard about these things coming true, which I hope would explain the paranoia. I would appreciate a simple reply to put my mind at ease about the horror I awoke to this morning.
I would really just like you to know that, yes, I do worry about teachers quite a lot, even the ones I absolutely cannot stand. Don't think that this is just a strange, random thing; I'm very concerned about this. If it were Mr. Hart or even Mr. Angeline I dreamt this about, and they didn't show up to school the next day, I'd most likely be doing the same exact thing.
P.S.: I don't know if you check your school email at home or not, but if you do, then all is well. If not, well then... I'll just have to wait, won't I? And I couldn't apologize enough if this whole thing sounded weird to you, honestly. I just feel that if I don't do this, I'll be on edge and be 'Little Miss Fun-sucker' all weekend because of it. I've been told you're only sick, but I still just need to know.
So yeah. We were planning on watching Antz today, because of the whole... government... overthrowing-whatever-ness (which is funny because, he had to like... have a meeting with one of the deans to be allowed to show it), and just before he pressed play, he looked at me, then at the class.
Mr Pettit: By the way, I am alive. For anyone who was wondering... or hoping.
Ashleigh and Dominque (a girl in my lab who knows about the whole thing): -start laughing-
Mr. Pettit: -subtly looks at me again- Yeah, I just got that email this morning.
Yeah... He didn't actually say it was me, but I guess he knew that, oh hey, if he points out something I did specifically to him, I'd make it super-obvious that it was me! Which is what I did. I instantly slapped my hand over my face the moment he said that. And apparently, according to my friend Miranda, she heard him talking to some teachers in the hallway, and mentioned something about one of his students sending him an email and that said student had a dream about him. That was all she heard, since she was just passing by, but that's apparently what he said. I bet that's going to be something amusing to tell his wife tonight.
Oh, and he's not going to be at school Wednesday. The reason why he wasn't at school Friday was because his uncle died (... oh, the irony), and the funeral is thiscoming Wednesday. So... I'll grieve for his uncle.
Yes, I do things like that for my teachers all the time. My English teacher last year, Mrs. Bailey, her grandmother died, and the day she went to the funeral, I grieved a little for her.
So some other random Mr. P. moments before I move on to the stress of radio stage fright...
Mr. Pettit: -standing on his tiptoes trying to erase the board from Friday where the sub wrote the date and mumbles- This is so ghetto.
Mr. Pettit: -reading the warning screen at the beginning of the movie- "This video disc will explo--"wha? -grin-
So anyway. Radio drama.
Mondays, I have to write a few radio-worthy national news stories. Well, I generally suck at that, because I'm going to end up picking stories that only I'm interested in, not the rest of the listeners. So... at least switch me with Jen on Mondays; let me have local news!
Tuesdays, aka, tomorrow, I have to actually be ON AIR. As in me. Sitting at the switchboard. In front of a microphone. Speaking to people. On air. Where I can easily mess up. Like... I could forget to turn the mic off during a song. Or like... forget to do the full station call on the top of the hour because I lose track of time so easily. I don't like that.
What if I freeze up while I'm talking or forget what I'm supposed to say? What if I just do a shitty job in general? I... I can't be on air, I just can't. Especially since I know what will happen if I do mess up. My throat will close up and I'll feel like I have to throw up. And throwing up on new radio equipment isn't a good thing.
THIS IS WHY I WANTED INTERACTIVE MEDIA.
Hell, this is why I wanted to stay at West Union. In Media Arts, the radio wasn't manditory. It is here. I really and honestly can't do it. And Mr. Angeline KNOWS I'm not ready, and he goes and puts me on air on a TUESDAY?! What the hell was he thinking! I mean, sure it isn't first shift, but still! I'm just not ready enough to do it. -sigh- I've tried talking to him, but he's all like, "Oh Diana, you can do it." WTF, like that does anything for my confidence. I've been hearing that shit all day. I. CAN'T. DO. IT. Simple as that.
Some of you may not know, but Friday evening, I emailed him (which he didn't reply to directly, as you'll soon see).
Mr. Pettit,
This may sound strange, but I had a dream. And for lack of a softer way to put it, it was that you died. Like I said, sounds strange right? But imagine how worried I'd be when next thing I know, you don't show up at school. I've heard about these things coming true, which I hope would explain the paranoia. I would appreciate a simple reply to put my mind at ease about the horror I awoke to this morning.
I would really just like you to know that, yes, I do worry about teachers quite a lot, even the ones I absolutely cannot stand. Don't think that this is just a strange, random thing; I'm very concerned about this. If it were Mr. Hart or even Mr. Angeline I dreamt this about, and they didn't show up to school the next day, I'd most likely be doing the same exact thing.
P.S.: I don't know if you check your school email at home or not, but if you do, then all is well. If not, well then... I'll just have to wait, won't I? And I couldn't apologize enough if this whole thing sounded weird to you, honestly. I just feel that if I don't do this, I'll be on edge and be 'Little Miss Fun-sucker' all weekend because of it. I've been told you're only sick, but I still just need to know.
So yeah. We were planning on watching Antz today, because of the whole... government... overthrowing-whatever-ness (which is funny because, he had to like... have a meeting with one of the deans to be allowed to show it), and just before he pressed play, he looked at me, then at the class.
Mr Pettit: By the way, I am alive. For anyone who was wondering... or hoping.
Ashleigh and Dominque (a girl in my lab who knows about the whole thing): -start laughing-
Mr. Pettit: -subtly looks at me again- Yeah, I just got that email this morning.
Yeah... He didn't actually say it was me, but I guess he knew that, oh hey, if he points out something I did specifically to him, I'd make it super-obvious that it was me! Which is what I did. I instantly slapped my hand over my face the moment he said that. And apparently, according to my friend Miranda, she heard him talking to some teachers in the hallway, and mentioned something about one of his students sending him an email and that said student had a dream about him. That was all she heard, since she was just passing by, but that's apparently what he said. I bet that's going to be something amusing to tell his wife tonight.
Oh, and he's not going to be at school Wednesday. The reason why he wasn't at school Friday was because his uncle died (... oh, the irony), and the funeral is thiscoming Wednesday. So... I'll grieve for his uncle.
Yes, I do things like that for my teachers all the time. My English teacher last year, Mrs. Bailey, her grandmother died, and the day she went to the funeral, I grieved a little for her.
So some other random Mr. P. moments before I move on to the stress of radio stage fright...
Mr. Pettit: -standing on his tiptoes trying to erase the board from Friday where the sub wrote the date and mumbles- This is so ghetto.
Mr. Pettit: -reading the warning screen at the beginning of the movie- "This video disc will explo--"wha? -grin-
So anyway. Radio drama.
Mondays, I have to write a few radio-worthy national news stories. Well, I generally suck at that, because I'm going to end up picking stories that only I'm interested in, not the rest of the listeners. So... at least switch me with Jen on Mondays; let me have local news!
Tuesdays, aka, tomorrow, I have to actually be ON AIR. As in me. Sitting at the switchboard. In front of a microphone. Speaking to people. On air. Where I can easily mess up. Like... I could forget to turn the mic off during a song. Or like... forget to do the full station call on the top of the hour because I lose track of time so easily. I don't like that.
What if I freeze up while I'm talking or forget what I'm supposed to say? What if I just do a shitty job in general? I... I can't be on air, I just can't. Especially since I know what will happen if I do mess up. My throat will close up and I'll feel like I have to throw up. And throwing up on new radio equipment isn't a good thing.
THIS IS WHY I WANTED INTERACTIVE MEDIA.
Hell, this is why I wanted to stay at West Union. In Media Arts, the radio wasn't manditory. It is here. I really and honestly can't do it. And Mr. Angeline KNOWS I'm not ready, and he goes and puts me on air on a TUESDAY?! What the hell was he thinking! I mean, sure it isn't first shift, but still! I'm just not ready enough to do it. -sigh- I've tried talking to him, but he's all like, "Oh Diana, you can do it." WTF, like that does anything for my confidence. I've been hearing that shit all day. I. CAN'T. DO. IT. Simple as that.