Turns out that when you go to a place for six or more hours a day, it's all you want to complain about. Who knew?
However, it turns out that there are a couple distinct part of my day that I've yet to really talk about, and personally, I think it ranks alongside eating Nutella bagels in terms of being interesting.
If you've never seen me with Nutella, that joke probably made a lot less sense than it should.
Anyway, my school day consists of six classes and lunch. Four of these six hours, I'm sitting next to a few key friends who make my day a little better. Sometimes.
However, there are two classes where I am grossly outnumbered by people I either don't talk to or don't like. Fortunately, both of these classes are considered art classes by the general public, so it helps to be in total recluse the entirety of the class.
Between those two classes, I'm averaging about 102%. True story.
And that's right, I said TWO art classes. Hello, Senior Slide.
What? It makes sense. I'm going into art in college, you know.
And by the way, as an art major, I won't have to deal with science class anymore. Which is probably a good thing, because most of my science classes go like this.
Now click my links and love my previous posts. DO IT.
All I'm gonna say now is that it's probably a good thing that I won't be a super-amazing salesperson.
Or Link-Clicker-Supreme-Overlord (Yeah, that was the only title I could come up with. Seems that I need to hone my title-making skills).
But back to those two art classes. Thanks to that, I don't have to take all the gross classes like Physics, Anatomy, Child Development, and French.
But I'm still in advanced Calculus.
Okay, really back to the two art classes. At the start of the year, I was actually excited to take Drawing A and Graphic Design. I had been signing up for Drawing A the better part of the past three years and now that the counselors at school decided that "Hey, this kid might wanna take an art class or something," I finally got it.
Thank God. Look at what I learned how to do!
This is something everyone is capable of, providing they aren't like the general majority of my art class.
That's right, kids. It pays to be the loser without any friends.
Trust me, I should know. Just read another one of my previous posts.
Okay, I'm done advertising.
For real.
Just don't click HERE.
I warned you.
But yeah, I've spent the last two and a half months with my day starting and ending with an unnaturally large dose of freshmen.
In the classes that people take for an easy A.
Fortunately, because no one really listens to the teacher except for me, all of them are genuinely surprised when I pull of a scratchboard lion and they're stuck figuring out why the paper we started with is black instead of white.
You'd think that's a huge hyperbole, but the really sad thing is that a large group of the kids sit in the middle of my classroom and talk about sex, drugs, and illegal things, being sure to drop in some choice profanity every three or four seconds.
Another group of kids (Freshmen, of course) have spent the better part of the class throwing erasers, pencils, and sticks of charcoals.
The rest of us just kinda ignore them. In fact, all the years I've spent tuning out my mom when she tells me to do unimportant things like mowing lawns and doing dishes has really made this class bearable.
If anyone is confident of the advancing of the human race, they're welcome to step into the world of "Drawing A." I dare them.
Now I really don't mean to toot my own horn here...wait. Yes I do.
I will admit that this class makes me feel like the greatest artist in the universe and a whole heck of an amazing person, which is really great because my next class is calculus, and, well, it turns out that I really hate math.
After I go through four horrible hours of the crushing realization that I'm not a totally awesome dude who can do anything (it's amazing how much you die inside when everyone in your English class comes up with a better analysis to a poem that you read and responded with "Hey, that was a pretty swell poem"), a half hour of surprisingly edible cafeteria food (and that's a stretch sometimes...I'm talking green roast beef. No joke.), and a combined twenty-five minutes of walking to class surrounded by people who think that kissing their significant other is more important than learning in an institution dedicated to education, I walk into my second art class of the day.
I really need to work on my run on sentences.
(And damn, do I abuse these parentheses keys)
So yeah. The last hour of the day, Graphic Design, sounds a bit like this:
Unfortunately, it ended up being a lot more of this:
But me, ever the optimist (Who am I kidding, this class freaking sucks), I've managed to not only get through it, but get through it with a smile.
It's not that the kid next to me has the IQ of a garden gnome. That isn't the problem at all. When he's not cracking really offensive jokes about a girl who sits two seats down from him or accusing me of cheating because there's "NO WAY MY DESIGNS LOOK THAT GOOD" (Excuse me for doing the assignment, buddy), he really isn't that bad of a kid.
Really.
I promise.
And it's not even the fact that I finish all the assignments with three days before we have to turn them in either. In fact, I love that. See, I sit in the back of the class and examine everyone else's progress, providing they're making any at all.
We're high schoolers on computers and an innate ability to slack off. It's harder than you think to pass this class.
Now I might come of like a total Chad, here but don't worry. I guarantee you that all the guys in this class could beat the snot out of me, all the girls are way outta my league (even the freshmen, which is pretty pitiful, even by my standards), and I'm probably one of about three kids who is actually taking this class somewhat seriously.
Also, there's a kid who plays a harmonica some days. In class. I'm not sure if he's good; he pretty much just spends his time annoying the teacher and other students, so as far as I know, all he knows how to do is play the highest pitch the harmonica can play as loudly as he possibly can.
What have I learned from all this?
For one, in High School, classes you love are always full of people you hate.
But more importantly:
Personal tragedy makes for a great blog post.
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