17Sep10

In seventh grade I won an art award. I really don’t know why, I was terrible at art, and my language arts teacher knew it somehow. I guess she an email about it, because she told the whole class about me winning, followed with, “I don’t understand how someone with such terrible hand writing could win an art award.” Everyone laughed.

In ninth grade I actually hated my math teacher, so when he told me not to quit my day job (After I said, “I don’t know,” to some math question or other), it didn’t really get me down. OK, I’m lying. At the time it sucked, but when I think about what a dick that guy was it doesn’t bother me anymore.

Sophomore year of high school, world history, we were learning about the Tudors, who happen to be one of my favorite families of history. A girl raised her hand and asked, with uncertainty, who this cousin Mary was after he had been referring to her as Elizabeth’s sister? At the time I kind of worshiped my teacher, but now I can see he was a dumbass. He said that, back then, they didn’t bother differentiating between sister and cousin, it was the same thing. I raised my hand and pointed out that he had already said that sister Mary was dead when cousin Mary really came into the picture and explained that they were two different people. He just said, “I don’t think so,” and kept teaching. I think this instance has had the most detrimental affect on my life of being uncertain about raising my hand.

Yesterday I was kinda early for class, and I went into the room when one student and the professor from before were still in the class. I didn’t think it was a big deal, only I realized the kid was taking a test. After a few seconds the teacher said, “June (guessing on the spelling), you need to turn in your test now.” A few seconds pass. “June.” June is completely ignoring the guy. “June, if you don’t have it now, you’re not going to get it.”

I absolutely cannot help but despise people who treat students this way. Perhaps I am overly sensitive, and maybe June’s teacher even thinks he was being fair, but, fuck, don’t they know they’re in positions that affect people?

I guess it’s my fault, really, for letting it affect me. Okay.

Sometimes when I’m on my bike at a stop light and I’m in front of everyone else, I like to pretend I’m the leader of the pack and when the light turns green we’ll all ride together only it feels more like kindergarten so we actually have those tricycles where the pedals are attached to the wheels, you know the ones? They’re really badass. Anyway, once the light really turns green everyone goes and on my borrowed too small red mountain bike where the wheels never seem to inflate all the way, I am passed and left in the dust and the dream is immediately dissolved. Pedal pedal pedal, wheeze

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