2Let me clarify one thing here... I am in high school. HIGH SCHOOL. This is where things get a little more complicated than middle school, and is a step up to something a bit more mature. Needless to say, we left all the silly games and coloring books behind when we left elementary. I have been the proud recipient of an elementary diploma for some time now and I've found that, though some of the opposite gender still act as though they haven't yet left kindergarten, most of us have developed a bit from our more primitive selves. Unfortunately, some still fail to recognize this, though this fact is right in front of their faces doing the DNL leprechaun dance. Am I right in saying that it pisses everyone off when adults refuse to see that we are mature and can handle things such as figuring out our classmates names w/o undergoing the name-game procedure? Or such things as a curfew, or anything else that they ever object to us dealing with? I'm sure all you teenagers out there can commiserate.
The aforementioned situation (the name game) was a real life occurrence. Unfortunately, among that diploma, I am also a recipient (certainly not a proud one) of a textbook. Oh no, not any textbook... a PE textbook. Yes, that's right. A Physical Education textbook. What ever happened to playing mature games of matball, and dodgeball? No, sorry, there's no more of that. We get homework, and written tests, and... textbooks in Gym now. To top everything off, I have a teacher with the sanity of a wombat. Today in PE everyone (meaning the entirety of our class (12 people)) stood around the circle where the Indian head used to be (our school mascot used to be an Indian). The Indian Head was covered up (I have no idea how) because it is offensive to Native Americans. Hell if I had my head painted on the gymnasium floor, I'd be feeling damn proud of it. Them damn Indian's ain't got no pride (just kidding, I happen to have a great amount of respect for 1st Nations and their casinos). Anybutt, we were circled around the ex- Indian. Ms. Wombat then tells us that we will be playing a game. A "fun" game, as she puts it. I can tell everyone's groaning inside, but since it's the 3rd day of school, we don't want to piss her off yet by making snide remarks about her interpretations of "fun". We then proceed to play a name game. I am, or course, excellent at this game for two reasons, 1) I have played it before, and 2) My friend's dead rat would be excellent at this game. Oh, and of course I taught Mary Poppins everything she knows. Juz playin' hommiez. The game was as follows: the 1st person (Wombat-head) starts out saying her name, and an article of food that starts with the same letter. Then the person to her left repeats what she just said and thinks of one for his/herself. Then the next person repeats the names/foods of the two people before him/her, and then his/her own name/food, and so on and so-forth. Incidentally one girl who had been a student our school district her entire life had more trouble than the new kid who had been here approximately 3 days. Of course. As you can see, it was terribly complicated and it took us about half the period to finish this arduous task. She kept going on about the fact that the period before had even more difficulty, although their class size is about 3x ours. Highly implausible, I say.