Better Dead than Red... Unless I forget my Spanish book.
I’d give a lot to either get out of school or start enjoying it. I try to be friendly in my classes and for the most part, everyone snubs me (especially my Spanish class, where it’s not even subtle snubbing). Sure I’m learning lots, but I’ve got no life outside of campus and I feel like the ends of education don’t justify my shrinking wallet and sanity.
For example, I’ve managed to bring the wrong book for my Spanish class three days in a row, and was so embarrassed that I didn’t go to class today. Even earlier than that, my calculus teacher, who never descends from her moral high horse, managed to make me silently rage all through class. She called all of us selfish and un-patriotic for not rushing to volunteer our notes from Friday to a guy who had been doing a Marine training exercise at that time. I guess she forgot the fact that it was nine in the morning and a calculus class, no one had been answering any of her questions for the past quarter hour, and that it takes 90 seconds for college students to respond under such conditions. Within that 90 seconds, the girl next to me said she would volunteer her notes. This immediately made me become the evil, immoral child who had not volunteered her notes.
^Might as well become the cover to my Calculus Binder.
She glared at me for the rest of class while making comments about how the Marine was risking his life for us, how horrible it is that none of us appreciate that, undertones of internal damnation, yada yada yada… I just about screamed that I was a communist, and I couldn’t have lent him my notes because they were actually secret correspondence with Castro. Never mind the fact my notes are illegible, or the fact that we COMPLETELY REVIEWED THE CONCEPTS FROM FRIDAY, PRACTICALLY RETAKING THE NOTES ANYWAY, but I was determined to run off and do my Spanish homework for that afternoon so I knew I couldn’t stay and give him notes. Of course, as I mentioned before, I had the wrong damn book. So I ended up twitching for four hours in the library and muttering “I’m not a Commie” to myself instead.
For example, I’ve managed to bring the wrong book for my Spanish class three days in a row, and was so embarrassed that I didn’t go to class today. Even earlier than that, my calculus teacher, who never descends from her moral high horse, managed to make me silently rage all through class. She called all of us selfish and un-patriotic for not rushing to volunteer our notes from Friday to a guy who had been doing a Marine training exercise at that time. I guess she forgot the fact that it was nine in the morning and a calculus class, no one had been answering any of her questions for the past quarter hour, and that it takes 90 seconds for college students to respond under such conditions. Within that 90 seconds, the girl next to me said she would volunteer her notes. This immediately made me become the evil, immoral child who had not volunteered her notes.
^Might as well become the cover to my Calculus Binder.
She glared at me for the rest of class while making comments about how the Marine was risking his life for us, how horrible it is that none of us appreciate that, undertones of internal damnation, yada yada yada… I just about screamed that I was a communist, and I couldn’t have lent him my notes because they were actually secret correspondence with Castro. Never mind the fact my notes are illegible, or the fact that we COMPLETELY REVIEWED THE CONCEPTS FROM FRIDAY, PRACTICALLY RETAKING THE NOTES ANYWAY, but I was determined to run off and do my Spanish homework for that afternoon so I knew I couldn’t stay and give him notes. Of course, as I mentioned before, I had the wrong damn book. So I ended up twitching for four hours in the library and muttering “I’m not a Commie” to myself instead.