NaNoWriMo day Three
January 6th, 121 total days till graduation, 94 days left of school
“You can’t be serious,” I tell my academic advisor, Mrs. Boswell.
“I’m sorry Ethan, but you simply haven’t fulfilled your social science credits. Actually, there are about five others in the same boat as you. If you’re worried about being the only senior you won’t be,” Mrs. Boswell smiles at me with false understanding. She’s trying to force me into a freshman level psych class.
“Why the hell wasn’t I told to take this course as a freshman then?” I’m practically spitting in anger.
“Language, Mr. Grayson.”
“What?” I run back over what I just said wondering what swear word had slipped out. I don’t think I said anything. Unless she’s counting hell, which this uptight bitch probably is. I decide not to argue the point.
“Ethan, I’m sorry but you simply have to take beginner psychology or you will not graduate with the rest of your class.”
I want to protest more but I know there isn’t much of a point. “Fine, what hours is it available?”
“There are classes available all six hours but only two hours have openings. So it’s your choice, either fourth period and you give up Spanish or sixth hour and you give up-” she stops abruptly and clicks a few keys on her keyboard. “It appears as though they didn’t schedule you a sixth hour. Well at least it’s an easy decision then.” She starts clicking keys.
“No, my sixth hour is supposed to be my theatre independent study.”
She smiles at me with teeth far too white to be natural. “Well the computer doesn’t say that. Mr. Peters must never have signed off on it. And it’s far too late for him to do so now.”
“But I saw him sign the paper.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan but independent study paperwork was due before Holiday break.”
I roll my eyes at her political correctness but it doesn’t ease the tension otherwise. “But I’m planning on studying theatre in college.”
“Which is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Do you honestly think there’s a future for you in theatre?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She gets stern extremely quickly, “Mr. Grayson I’m serious, use that language one more time and I promise you that I will make all executive decisions about your schedule without your input.”
I physically bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her that hell is NOT a swear word. I swallow my anger and slowly inform her that I plan to be a theatre major.
“But what do you plan to do with that major. It’s rather impractical.”
I’m sure I must look like I was just slapped in the face. “Excuse me?”
She smiles falsely again and for a moment I picture punching her dead in the mouth. It makes me feel just a little bit better. “Ethan, even if you were planning on performing, localized theatre groups don’t require a degree. They also don’t pay well. So what are you planning on doing with you performance degree?”
“Not performance. Theatre and I plan on teaching. Probably in a high school. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.” She opens her mouth to say something but I interrupt. “So you took care of that psychology stuff then right? Since clearly I can’t take theatre.” I stand up and grab hold of my back pack.
“Yes, I’ll take care of it all.”
“Great, bye then,” and I walk out of her office praying I never have to deal with this bitch again.
5,176 words
“You can’t be serious,” I tell my academic advisor, Mrs. Boswell.
“I’m sorry Ethan, but you simply haven’t fulfilled your social science credits. Actually, there are about five others in the same boat as you. If you’re worried about being the only senior you won’t be,” Mrs. Boswell smiles at me with false understanding. She’s trying to force me into a freshman level psych class.
“Why the hell wasn’t I told to take this course as a freshman then?” I’m practically spitting in anger.
“Language, Mr. Grayson.”
“What?” I run back over what I just said wondering what swear word had slipped out. I don’t think I said anything. Unless she’s counting hell, which this uptight bitch probably is. I decide not to argue the point.
“Ethan, I’m sorry but you simply have to take beginner psychology or you will not graduate with the rest of your class.”
I want to protest more but I know there isn’t much of a point. “Fine, what hours is it available?”
“There are classes available all six hours but only two hours have openings. So it’s your choice, either fourth period and you give up Spanish or sixth hour and you give up-” she stops abruptly and clicks a few keys on her keyboard. “It appears as though they didn’t schedule you a sixth hour. Well at least it’s an easy decision then.” She starts clicking keys.
“No, my sixth hour is supposed to be my theatre independent study.”
She smiles at me with teeth far too white to be natural. “Well the computer doesn’t say that. Mr. Peters must never have signed off on it. And it’s far too late for him to do so now.”
“But I saw him sign the paper.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan but independent study paperwork was due before Holiday break.”
I roll my eyes at her political correctness but it doesn’t ease the tension otherwise. “But I’m planning on studying theatre in college.”
“Which is the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Do you honestly think there’s a future for you in theatre?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She gets stern extremely quickly, “Mr. Grayson I’m serious, use that language one more time and I promise you that I will make all executive decisions about your schedule without your input.”
I physically bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her that hell is NOT a swear word. I swallow my anger and slowly inform her that I plan to be a theatre major.
“But what do you plan to do with that major. It’s rather impractical.”
I’m sure I must look like I was just slapped in the face. “Excuse me?”
She smiles falsely again and for a moment I picture punching her dead in the mouth. It makes me feel just a little bit better. “Ethan, even if you were planning on performing, localized theatre groups don’t require a degree. They also don’t pay well. So what are you planning on doing with you performance degree?”
“Not performance. Theatre and I plan on teaching. Probably in a high school. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.” She opens her mouth to say something but I interrupt. “So you took care of that psychology stuff then right? Since clearly I can’t take theatre.” I stand up and grab hold of my back pack.
“Yes, I’ll take care of it all.”
“Great, bye then,” and I walk out of her office praying I never have to deal with this bitch again.
5,176 words