Year of the Crap
I feel a little guilty about the level of neglect this journal's received.
I have a feeling eighth grade is going to be a bad year. My instinct tells me so, and it is (almost) never very wrong. My teachers are all interesting, but for the sake of your time and mine, I will only describe the ones on my team. *proceeds to describe said teachers*
The thing I hate most about the beginning of a school year is the part where you don't really know the teacher's true colors until at least the middle of the week, where the big bad beast of personality finally rears its ugly head and roars from a long slumber. (I don't really know where that came from.) I've learnt not to trust my first impressions, although they still manage to make a large impact, until such impressions have been proven wrong (but I rarely give a second chance after the first has already been established. How shallow of me.) Which comes to my next topic, Ms. Cutelli, my communication arts (that's a fancy name for reading and writing stuff) teacher. The curriculum is almost identical to last year's. We each get a writer's notebook to publish our thoughts, and we are free to choose whatever to write about. Why then, did I like last year's class so much better? Perhaps it's the way she is educating us on the "writing process," or the steps in which you must follow to write successfully. In a nutshell, you pretty much have to start out brainstorming, in some sort of graphic organizer, then write an outline, then finally start your first draft. Do I honestly want to do all this before I sit down and write something? After your first draft, you have your next draft which is supposedly improved, and last, your final draft. [Insert badly-written student examples of multiple drafts here.] *sigh* Maybe it's even the way I've never seen her smile, and her eyes seem to always wrongly accuse you of a crime of some sort. She's only 24, and she DOES look like a kind soul at first glance, but when you spend a few weeks with her, your impression may be entirely different. And foundation is bad for your skin, wear less, please.
Mr. Boeckman is the most unique science teacher I've had. He is the most unique teacher I've had, period. First of all, he told us that we would unlearn all the facts on the scientific method that we had learned our whole lives. So that chunk of knowledge we so reluctantly accepted into our undeveloped little minds? Garbage. We don't need it. (I am paraphrasing here.) He also likes to make comments about his students straight to their faces. He told Duqum that he was unlike his brother because Duqum was much more interested in boys. He then informed us that he was, quote unquote, "not making any comments on Duqum's sexual preference, just that he seems to be a lot more interested in what the boys in this class are constantly doing." [Descriptions of unusual forms of punishment go here, which include sticking your nose in a circle drawn on the board parallel to your forehead and staying there for one minute, and another called "firing squad." This requires the whole class to participate.]
Mr. Krone's weird. He will be senile when he grows older, which isn't soon, because he's already in his 50s or so.
*Gets a little bored with describing her teachers so she stops going into much detail*
Mrs. Wolfmeyer is a shorter version of Mrs. Lawton. This is good, although I believe I will flunk her class soon. That's too bad. How I hate numbers.
I have to wake up in seven and a half hours, then go to a most despised prison of what they deem "education."
I have a feeling eighth grade is going to be a bad year. My instinct tells me so, and it is (almost) never very wrong. My teachers are all interesting, but for the sake of your time and mine, I will only describe the ones on my team. *proceeds to describe said teachers*
The thing I hate most about the beginning of a school year is the part where you don't really know the teacher's true colors until at least the middle of the week, where the big bad beast of personality finally rears its ugly head and roars from a long slumber. (I don't really know where that came from.) I've learnt not to trust my first impressions, although they still manage to make a large impact, until such impressions have been proven wrong (but I rarely give a second chance after the first has already been established. How shallow of me.) Which comes to my next topic, Ms. Cutelli, my communication arts (that's a fancy name for reading and writing stuff) teacher. The curriculum is almost identical to last year's. We each get a writer's notebook to publish our thoughts, and we are free to choose whatever to write about. Why then, did I like last year's class so much better? Perhaps it's the way she is educating us on the "writing process," or the steps in which you must follow to write successfully. In a nutshell, you pretty much have to start out brainstorming, in some sort of graphic organizer, then write an outline, then finally start your first draft. Do I honestly want to do all this before I sit down and write something? After your first draft, you have your next draft which is supposedly improved, and last, your final draft. [Insert badly-written student examples of multiple drafts here.] *sigh* Maybe it's even the way I've never seen her smile, and her eyes seem to always wrongly accuse you of a crime of some sort. She's only 24, and she DOES look like a kind soul at first glance, but when you spend a few weeks with her, your impression may be entirely different. And foundation is bad for your skin, wear less, please.
Mr. Boeckman is the most unique science teacher I've had. He is the most unique teacher I've had, period. First of all, he told us that we would unlearn all the facts on the scientific method that we had learned our whole lives. So that chunk of knowledge we so reluctantly accepted into our undeveloped little minds? Garbage. We don't need it. (I am paraphrasing here.) He also likes to make comments about his students straight to their faces. He told Duqum that he was unlike his brother because Duqum was much more interested in boys. He then informed us that he was, quote unquote, "not making any comments on Duqum's sexual preference, just that he seems to be a lot more interested in what the boys in this class are constantly doing." [Descriptions of unusual forms of punishment go here, which include sticking your nose in a circle drawn on the board parallel to your forehead and staying there for one minute, and another called "firing squad." This requires the whole class to participate.]
Mr. Krone's weird. He will be senile when he grows older, which isn't soon, because he's already in his 50s or so.
*Gets a little bored with describing her teachers so she stops going into much detail*
Mrs. Wolfmeyer is a shorter version of Mrs. Lawton. This is good, although I believe I will flunk her class soon. That's too bad. How I hate numbers.
I have to wake up in seven and a half hours, then go to a most despised prison of what they deem "education."