The First Week

My first week as an upperclassman was awful; until I realized how good it was.

Going into the Monday back to school, there wasn't as much trepidation hanging in the air as there usually is. It was the anxious waiting for that infernal schedule that got me. Did I get all the classes I asked for? Are all my friends in my classes? Did I get the AP Language and Composition teacher I wanted? Why are there so many questions in a row here?


So Monday started with its usual high energy back-to-school zeal and I learned what was to be my future schedule for the year within an hour of getting to school. I got exactly what I asked for. What did I have to complain about? Everyone else might have awful schedules and be put in the wrong classes, but I was fine. Until I met my new history teacher.

Mrs. Barbacci is the bane of me. I would rather gnaw off my right arm than spend a half hour, let alone 50 minutes, with her. She is just the sort of heinous and insipid totalitarian dictator I left when I passed Coach Sprinkle's Pre-AP ACCEL World History class. She is a control freak to the degree that she has requested that if we have a pencil in need of sharpening, that we raise our hand and she will sharpen it for us. I think I'd rather perform a magic trick with her forehead and my freshly sharpened writing implement.

However, the one redeeming quality of her class is that, since it is not an AP course, it is exceedingly easy. I can handle easy. I took Coach Sprinkle's class and ate it for lunch, and I suspect nothing will change here. Except, of course, that I will undermine her every attempt to seem smart by beating her to answers by blurting out the answer before her lazy neural connections have a chance to synapse. I suspect that, however, in the meantime, I will remain quiet and collect my "A"s like paychecks.


I spent a great portion of my summer wishing on shooting stars and the mythical "11:11" that my Junior year would be easier and good to me. It took a week to realize that, thus far, my wish has been granted. As if Mother Nature knew best, Mama Fay swept across Florida at a racing 10 miles per hour to intimidate our new superintendent into letting us off Friday. Though it's been raining here for nearly 48 hours straight, it is this relaxing beat of summer's tears striking and rolling down my window, as if to say "goodbye", that made me realize how wonderful this school year might be. I will miss this summer, but I know that it's time to move on and confront my studies for what could be the greatest battle yet. Only time will tell.

- Jonathan