August 15, 2001 4:05 PM
I’ve had quite a lot going on lately! With the beginning of school comes a lot of homework, a good bit of study time, and loads and loads of stress. I actually rather enjoy school, to tell the truth. That is, I enjoy being at school. I enjoy seeing my friends every day. I even enjoy participating in class. The thing about school I absolutely positively do not enjoy – not one tiny little bit – is all the stress. I have so many sources of stress. I must do my homework and study or I’ll get bad grades. I must keep my grades up or I won’t get into a good college. I must participate in extracurricular activities. Those are the three big “must”s, and you may trust me when I say that they are three BIG musts. If I fail to comply with any one of them, I shall be met by dire consequences.
So just when I start to really relax and settle down, summer slips out from under me like a trapdoor beneath the feet of a superhero in a bad cartoon. I fall and fall through a Sunday night of uncertainty and fear, until my fall is broken by the cold, heartless realization that it was Monday morning and I have a long, long school year ahead of me. I fear that I’ll be rejected by society in general, but my greatest fear is that my teachers will come out ahead of me in my struggle for an “A”.
I like to think of my classes in terms of me vs. the teacher; it motivates me and allows me to push myself further than perhaps I otherwise could. In my fantasy scenario, the teacher is the bad guy (or girl). The teacher does not like me. The teacher hates me. The teacher wants me to suffer. I, however, intend to have a 4.0 GPA throughout high school. From these three postulates, we can conclude that the teacher wants, at almost any cost, to give me a “B” or lower and deny me my prize. If I give in to temptation by slacking off and ignoring my schoolwork, I will get a less than the “A” grade I so desire and the teacher will win and I will lose. I envision the teacher getting into his or her car and merrily recounting the day’s events as he or she drives to the Cork and Cleaver to celebrate with all the other teachers who gave their students bad grades. I absolutely refuse to give any teacher this perverse satisfaction. I intend to make the day we get our grading cards one of the most miserable days in my teachers life. Then, and only then, will I be able to walk out of the school building with my head held high, about to burst with pride, thinking about how disappointed my teachers must be as they miserably trudge to their cars. I know this isn’t really fair to my teachers, as I’m sure they’re all very nice people, but it works, so I see no harm in it.