Wooh, woooohhh!

Wow, what a dork I am. I just got really excited over absolutely nothing. Mmm, weird. Well, anyway, moving along, quickly.

School is a JOKE. Well, for tomorrow, anyway. I got a 90 on that math A final. Not what I'd hoped. Nearly the entire class got higher. It was SO EASY. A lot of stupid mistakes. I think I should pay attention to what numbers I punch into a calculator. And then someone got a 100, which really makes me feel great. Well, anyway, the school year is winding down. Tomorrow, nothing is planned for any class, except Spanish. That would be Proficiency review. I'm fine with that, though. I had the duty of grading practice proficiencies. It was set up like this:

1 scantron.

3 proficiency exams.

30 questions on each.

90 questions in total.

I graded only about 5 or 6 papers, but they were, for the most part, good. Well, okay. One was horrible. I think they guessed on theirs. I would only hope so. They....(Can't say who, and one person knows. If you post their name, you're dead) got a 43. Yes. 43 on a PROFICIENCY. While I may not speak la Français, I do know that such a grade is horrible, even for the Frenchies. I, for one, consider the Spanish language easier to learn. While "Comrade" Chiara believes...well I'm not sure. HEY, COMRADE CHIARA. LET ME KNOW. Well, anyway. I think it's easier to learn. My grandfather said that, too. I mean, English by far is one of the toughest languages to master. Look at us! In 8th grade, still taking the stupid stuff. That, and Urdu are considered hardest. Don't ask how I know these things. 

It's such an awe-inspiring day outside. Allow me to paint a picture for you. The Sun gently glows upon the horizon, as I see it at the moment. It barely peeks over the gently-rolling vista. The wind blows very gently, through the trees, as it kisses your skin. The ominous clouds in the sky seem to be surverying the landscape, waiting for just the right spot to allow themselves to do their job. The beautiful...presumably maple tree afore my window leans, gently, as if needing rest. There is nothing but pure, untouched, genuine silence on the street before me. The low, soft music playing in the background seems to be carrying on a soliloquy. No, for once it actually isn't American Baby by Dave Matthews Band. The people walking on the sidewalk race past each other, as the lady just dropped her pocketbook. Being the gentleman he should, he reached down, and said "Here you are, Ma'am." They then carried on a colloquy. Goodness is so scarce in today's society, so truly appreciating any that you receive will make your life, and the person that bestowed you with such a benevolent act will make both of your times worth while. The sun has finally seemed to creep under the horizon, as its beams of light just pass over our heads. (Oh, great. Mr. Mesic!!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TEACH US WHY SUNSET AND SUNRISES ARE REDDISH?) A final regents packet is glaring at me from the desk in front of me. It seems to be saying "HEHE. YOU ARE GOING TO FAIL, SO WHY BOTHER, MARC-ANTHONY SERRANO. Wellllllll....enough of that.

Tomorrow I might have some review with peopleeeee. Might. Might. Might. It would be fun if we did, though. I mean, okay. 4 dorks, 8 regents exams. Wait, Jess, what's 4 x 2 again? Oh, right. 6 or something. I took that Math A final, so I, quite frankly, could not care less about math. Like Jess said, we probably won't ever really need what we're being taught. I mean, okay, I shouldn't be so harsh on math. We need it for the Regents on Tuesday. All 3 hours of it. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. This is not your normal exam. The state mandates a full 3 hours be given for it, and no one is to leave the examination area in this time period. And if you don't sign the lovely waiver, your grade is conviniently a goose-egg. I wonder...what does a teacher do, if they grade all 80-something questions, extended response, multiple choice, and short answer, along with those pesky diagrams, and it takes them forever, because you have handwrigin as monstrous as Cody Ramos, or...ehh...not naming anyone else. Or, you know, "feminine italicized" handwriting, which, so you know, I will NOT be using. Oh, and then NYS requires we use PEN. Have you ever trusted a nose-picking, loser 8th grader with a PEN? I'm not one of those people, but for those that are. WHAT DO THEY DO WITH THE PEN. Well, here is a synopsis. Well, it looks tempting enough...so they stick it up their nose, and twirl it around. Twirl until the nose starts bleeding, or they pull out enough GUNK to form a marble with. Saliva can serve as glue, you know. So then, they stick said gunk ball on the answer sheet, over answers 7, 8, 9, and 10. Well, good. No writing space. So, the OCD freak then vigorously draws arrows to the spot where they put thair answers. Oh, but then guess what? There are TOO MANY ARROWS. So the graders eyes are about to explode, and smoke is coming out of their ears. The number is partially ocvered up. So, thinking the grader will notice this, the idiotic student then incribes the GUNK. "A". With a twirly thing on the bottom, because he/she couldn't get the gunk off! Then, while shaking the pen, they make a million marks in the answer sheet. WHAT DO THEY DO NOW? Well, the pen went flying. Great. No pen, and someone is conviniently bleeding from their right eye. Great. All over the paper. So they scream, jump up, and try to run out of the Band room, while Mr. Mesic body-slams them. They fall. While on the ground, you here the fading-in in yell of Mr. Ronzoni. About 10 seconds later, he gets to them, and decides to body-slam the student. "YOU CAN'T LEAVE. STANDARDIZED TEST. YOUR PAPER CUT WILL HAVE TO WAIT," Mr. Mesic says crossly. So, the student returns, with a pen conviniently protruding from their right eye, as I said before. The other student rudely takes it out. Great. A paper with GUNK and blood, the other with blood, and possibly shards of glass from the glasses they were wearing. This causes the student facing them to regurgitate all over his, his exam, as well as the one belonging to the student next to them. The smell of vomit fills the band room. Mr. Mesic calls down Mr. Jackson to get the box of tissues from a super-secret locked box, labeled "RGNTS, '05, YO." so, he gets it. Only problem. Mr. Jackson has this mutant cold. Snot is dripping from is nose and eyes. Great. So now we have to get a state trooper. Just great. Then, a student finds a spider crawling up their leg. It crawls onto their paper. This is the fifth paper that would not fare-well, as the student takes off his shoe, and slams the bug some 15 times, until Mr. Muehlbauer restrains said child. Spider guts sprinkle said paper, as footprints and dirt are also on it. This paper was finished. Okay, so that's 5 papers messed up. This storry will be continued.

[[I'll finish this later...maybe....]]

Now I'm just here, talking to Caitlin, who will read this when this is finished, apparently. This is definitely longer than anything else I've written. You know what would make me so upset right now? If the power went out and the PC shut off. I would like DIE. I've worked so hard on this post. This post about nothing. Nothing in-particular at ALL. Well, I might add a couple of edits later. Check back! Please leave comments? Byeee!!!

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