This is my angry blog. This is my ARRGHHHHH blog post, which doesn’t happen often, because I seem to be in a constant state of not giving a shit. Just kittens, I’m angry a lot. I just don’t show it, because frankly, anger is one of those things I like to take out on my room.
What does that even mean?!
It happens to mean that when I get home, I throw my stuff around and make a big mess, which causes my parents to get very angry, because computer time is only allowed to those with nice, clean rooms.
I shit you not, if my room has even five items of various categories on the ground, I am not allowed to use the computer. To restate, I am never allowed on the family computer. Ever. Like, the last time I was on that beast was back in ‘Nam…or something like that. I am on a rampage right now. I have so much anger, I could fuel half of a French Revolution and three quarters of an English Tea Party.
Today, we are talking about my school, my parental units, my teacher, and my priviledges. Yes, so in a nutshell, you could say I’m failing a class and getting punished for it. So, first, I feel the need to let you guys know that I do accept the responsibility of getting the bad grades…to an extent. But when you have a teacher who half covers a concept and then expects you to understand the entire middle part that they didn’t talk about at all…by the next day…it’s kind of difficult.
I’m not just saying this because I don’t get Algebra at all. I mean, it is a part of it, considering you could compare how well I do in Algebra to how well Wile E. Coyote does at catching Roadrunner. Not well at all. And, this is also comparable to the same thing, as Wile E. Coyote really tries DAMN hard to catch that stupid bird, he really does. But what the problem really is lies in how this teacher chooses to explain things. I’m not the only one in my class struggling, I’m just one of two getting an F…that I know of.
This Failing grade all began when I asked for a one day extension on my notebook. She said no. I said I didn’t have the notebook with me that day. She gave me a zero. How do you pull yourself back from something like that? You just don’t.
I would blame all of this on me if she was a great teacher. It would be like skydiving, she told me how to do it a million times, and I just couldn’t remember how to pull the parachute. No, it’s more like she didn’t tell me that not only was my parachute probably jammed, but also that the thing you’re supposed to pull is broken in half. As in…I cannot pull my fucking parachute cord, and now I’m freefalling to earth…That was an extended and slightly muddled metaphor.
NOW, my parents are in a tizzy because apparently ‘I am too smart to be recieving any grade lower than a B-‘. Fucking great. I am now suspended (by the parents) from any after school activities until my grade is up or further notice. That either means 3 weeks or forever and a day.
I shall conclude this blog with a big fuck you to the public education system in this town, which is close-minded, athletics-geared, racist, sexist, and elitist. Thank you, Small Town America…you have ruined my life.