Just One More Year

Two-day weekends are not enough. I propose that grade twelve students get Fridays and Mondays off as well. And Wednesdays to avoid double chemistry.

The point is that I have a great big weekend to-do list, and I have only crossed three things off of it today, none of them homework.

I’m not happy. I am, but I’m not. School is so stressful and more and more it feels like it’s all for nothing. What am I truly learning? Take English class for example. What the hell is up with that? What a waste of time. We read books over the summer. Alright, that wasn’t a lot to ask and I rather enjoyed the book I signed out. But now we have to analyze the stupid thing to death, answer questions about symbolism and foreshadowing, the same crap we’ve been doing since late junior high school. And essential questions? Bloody hell. This entire course is filler. Even if I tried my hardest I still wouldn’t learn anything.

And then there’s chemistry, and it’s pretty obvious that I won’t need any of this crap after January of this year. Why do I even bother? Because I’m a slave to my report card. If I don’t see a whole bunch of high eightys on there, I get depressed and work harder, increasing stress and may I present the vicious circle.

Just one more year.

And the ironic part is that I don’t want it to end because that’s going to mean a whole lot of good-byes.

I wish Angie were here.