Wednesday, March 3, 2004

   Chilly-cheese dogs and the joys of wasting paper.
As my long string of incoherant posts have reflected in a vague fashion, the faculty of the school I attend has undergone a massive shift. Okay, so it hasn't really been a shift: it's been a poof. By this, I mean that it has gone POOF! and changed. Almost suddenly.
Maybe a third of the teachers have retired, resigned or simply switched schools for no apparent reason, aside from one of their being sick. This has created a great deal of upset among us pupils, as the replacement teachers are less than what we would have expected from their predecessors on a bad day. However, I think it was the change in principal that really did my respect for my school in.
Recently, the office decided it would be an effective waste of their money to hire a singer to come and rap at us about black history month. Alright, so it was by no means rap: it was some sad individual's attempt to be Michael Jackson, Justin Timberlake, and a small, furry animal, all at the same time. The result? Well, let's leave it at he started singing to one of my friends about how he[my friend] was somebody. And "his beautiful girl". This assembly came without warning, and left the school more-or-less in a state of shock. My former music teacher would have been disgusted.

Two of the windows in our foyer were entirely covered by advertisements for a "multicultural show" that took place this evening. I did not attend--I refuse to support such a thoughtless waste of paper.

Now, on to the really scary stuff...

In family studies class, I presume the teacher thinks herself very child-savvy and that her lesson plans teach us the skills we will need for our lives as succesful adults, while letting us be children. At the same time.
So, she gets the bright idea that we are going to make cupcakes. Now, here's the catch: we're going to make them in the microwave. That's right. Microwave cupcakes.
Needless to say, one of my classmates set his group's on fire. Smoke billowed from that microwave oven like it was Armagedon. Only smaller. And with more flower, sugar and vegetable oil. In this case, three times too much vegetable oil. You could see your reflection in their baking. O.o
The errors made in measurement were evident in different ways throughout class: one group's were as heavy as bricks (I swear, I am not exagerating), ours were the same consistancy as the sponges we use to wash the dishes.
I wont even start on the chilly dogs. I still wish I had never brought that bun to my lips. Eugh...*heartburn* At least I had the taste to forgoe the chilly itself.

Oh, and they make us knit, too.

What have I learned from family studies class? That I would make a really lousy housewife, which is rather reassuring in more ways than one.^^

I am still on my quest to promote Narutaru, as should be evident from my new avatar. I mean, come on, people! Any show that can turn pokemon-like-creatures (in appearance, anyway), into crazed killers diserves props. And if it can be phylosophical and tear-jerking at the same time? *whistles*

It's kind of funny...I got 65% in more subject than one, and I think my mom knows, but she hasn't said a word to me about it. Hmmm...I don't want to see the rest of my report card.

Godel is not a good student. Godel is bored. Needs life badly.
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