Because of this, I am currently extremely depressed. This is not a good day. In fact, it is technically the worst day of my life. Here's how my day went:
I got there and had pre-period PE, which is the only class that has one of my friends in it. Whoop dee doo. The teacher is like, INSANE, and he has a bunch of dreadlocks, but we're apparently gonna be playing tennis, and that means I can bring my $300 Wilson Hyper Hammer Racquet. Of course, it's almost definitely gonna get stolen.
Next, I had English class, with a very strange teacher who made a smacking sound with his lips whenever he talked. Like this: Well (smack, smack), class, I just wanted to (smack) ask you (smack smack smack) if you had a (smack) good (smack smack) summer (smack smack smack smack smack smack smack).
Then I had Spanish, and the teacher wasted no time getting to the lesson. Here's what I've already learned: El burro sabe mas que tu. It means 'a donkey is smarter than you'. Also, my hispanic friend told me how to say my classic catchphrase (eat it, kid) in Spanish: comalo, nino.
Then I had break, and ran into all my friends, practically none of whom I saw over the summer. Here's some dialogue from break:mi clase de espanol es muy aburrido!
Me: Hey, it's my favorite jackass!
Other guy: Shut it, moron.
Me: I missed you, you stupid idiot!
Him: Me too, you s***-brained asshole!
Aaaah, nothing like friends.
Next, pre-algebra, with the most mediocre teacher ever. It's impossible to get a read on him. As soon as I think I've decided on whether I like him or not, he does something that overrides that previous decision. Almost like he's telepathic.
Then I had science, which seems awesome (science always is, there's never that much homework). The teacher was really strange. He's 25 years old, so most of us can really relate to him, except for the fact that he had earrings and was wearing skintight jeans. Eek.
Then I had lunch, and discovered that my former favorite place to eat had been overrun by sixth graders. Fortunately, they're not to hard to intimidate.
Then, symphonic band, which is always great. I have the same teacher as last year, who's always experimenting with his appearance. He once shaved his head and grew a goatee. This is the norm in Marin County.
Then I had history with the same teacher as I had for English, who had now stopped smacking. Maybe he only does that in the morning. He's very strange. I've come to call him the tapioca of the White Hill teachers.
Then I took the bus home, and I was lucky enough to be assigned a bus with all my friends (except for the one in pre-period PE). Last year, they were really lax about that, and let us take whichever bus we wanted. The turd muffins. I enjoyed that.
Well, that's my first seventh grade experience. Adios!
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