2013_09-First-Day-Story

chai · Jan 5, 2016

The rest of the story, if anyone cares.

Breathing hard, I slammed the door of my locker after squeezing my now-empty backpack inside. I gathered up my binder and books for my first class, turned, and readied myself for the plunge.
The hallway was empty. Shocked, I looked at my watch.
There really was a puff of air and a lone piece of paper that fluttered to the ground. I believe I have never run so fast in my life. Yes, it actually appeared that I was going to make it to class on time! I sped up the stairs and leaped to my classroom door--wait a minute.
Which door was it?
Too late, I realized that the lone piece of paper that I dropped in my haste was my schedule. I allowed myself a martyred sigh before sprinting off the way I had come.
Unfortunately, the stairs at this school were not made for sprinting.
*Insert sound effects of crashing, screaming, and a cat yowling here*
When I finally limped pitifully through the doors of my first classroom, dragging my sprained ankle behind me, I was several minutes late. However, I looked so pathetic and bedraggled that no one said anything.
And so I began my day. My first period class, Economics, seemed like a decent class, however I was little disconcerted by the teacher’s paranoid glances and his whispered assurances that this class was essential to our very survival! After the bell rang, I gathered my things to leave. However, I must have blinked, for I didn’t see anyone else leave, yet the room was suddenly completely empty. The teacher stared at me, his eye twitching.
I did not linger.
Four very rushed minutes later, I arrived at my next class, windswept and frazzled. As it happened, this next class was one Comic Literature. I tell you, I wasn’t so sure about that teacher. Apart from the llama on the shelf, the coffee on the projector, and the teacher petting the panda bear, it was--*BEEP* W are sorry. The writer has decided that she wants to get an A in this class, and so has conlucded that she should not mock it as blatantly as usual. Carryon. *BEEP*--If you know what I mean. Believe it or not, I actually managed to arrive at the exit before anyone else did when the bell rang. I wrenched open the door and ran. (Well, limped, but you get the picture.)
After a study hall with another English teacher who owned a pet squirrel disguised as a mustache (don’t ask), I pushed, shoved, and squeezed my way to Biology. It was a pretty normal class, with our normal Biology teacher yelling, “This class is the study of LIFE!!!” *cue ominous thunder* and cackling madly.
Next was lunch. All the high-schoolers piled ino the Great Hall (which is a fancy way of sying the gym) and crowded onto long benches. After nearly being killed by an airborne apple, I steeled my nerves and shoved myself onto the end of a bench. This was going to be...exciting.
Twenty minutes later, brushing stray crumbs out of my hair (not my fault, “he” started it) I hurried to my next class. This class was loftily titled Western Civilizations, but was nicknamed the Cave of Darkness soon afterwards by some totally unkown and mysterious personage. All I can say about that class is that suddenly--nothing happened. But it happened suddenly.
However, the class that followed the C.O.D. was quick to rouse me from my stupor. The teacher happened to be the same one who taught my Comic Literature class, so I was expecting something unusual--but not as unusual as it really was.
“One does not simply write a paper!” the instructor shouted heroically. “Its paragraphs are guarded by more than spelling and careful punctuation! There is evil there that does not sleep, and the English Teacher is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with metaphors and allusions. The very words you read are a confused jumble. Not with ten thousand dictionaries could you do this. It is folly!”
Dazed, I somehow managed to limp all the way to my Geomtry class. The classroom was plain, but neat. The teacher made her points well. As long as we aligned ourselves with her rules, we would be alright. All in all, it was shaping up to be a good class.
Lastly, I trekked off to Spanish. Ay! Yo no comprende.
I rushed out of my last class with a feeling of elation. The day was over! This feeling was crushed when I realized that, apparently, we had to go to something called “ninth hour”. This “ninth” hour seemed to serve no other purpose than to extend school hours to make the administration feel better about themselves. Shrugging, I trailed off to a study hall.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the story of the Hebrews’ Exodus from Egypt. Well, that Exodus was as nothing compared to what happened after the final bell rang. Students swarmed in droves out of every crack and crevice. From the ceiling, from the walls, from everywhere they came!
Joining the swarm, I limped to my locker and shoved my books and binders into my backpack with reckless abandon. A few seconds later, I burst outside and took a deep breath. I had done it! I had survived!!
In the car, driving home, my mom asked me how my day went. “Well,” said I, “The teachers are all batty, I nearly died a total of twelve and a half times, the hallways are downright life-threatening, and the students are all nerdy and completely unhinged.”
“In other words,” my mom replied, “you’ll fit right in.”

michelepixels · Jan 5, 2016

She has a knack for funny writing! I was especially interested to read because my kids are homeschoolers too. Only the oldest, now 14, ever expressed interest in school, though, back in 2nd grade. It was a very short experiment. Good luck to your daughter!

LynnG · Jan 6, 2016

LOL - "Old Nunnery"! Love that you scrapped it. It must have been a pretty brave move to go to High School but I love her attitude

sunflowersbaby · Jan 10, 2016

I really loved reading the story. Awesome page!!!

Trista · Jan 25, 2016

This is an incredibly well written story and obviously perfect for this challenge. Your daughter has a talent!!

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2013_09-First-Day-Story

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