Lethargy

I almost don't want to write in my Journal today. I've spent the last two hours sitting in front of this computer typing up the rough draft of my “American Dream” paper, and before that I worked for half an hour doing my vocabulary list. The only thing keeping me at the keyboard right now is the fact that I enjoy writing, that putting my thoughts in the public domain feels good. I was going to try and come up with a clever way to kick this entry off, but I think I'll just have to dump it all out at once.

I hate Mrs. Sherman's guts and I hope she loses the ability to talk (or any other debilitating blow, be creative.) and is forced to give up her teaching position at East Carteret High School.

I seriously would not shed one tear if that woman just spontaneously combusted right in front of me. I might feel a wee bit bad for her unborn child, but considering whatever spawn brews in her belly is at least 50% pure concentrated Mrs. Sherman, I don't think I would lose any sleep over it.

She was supposed to review our thesis statements today, but instead we got off on a tangent and ended up doing some retarded thinking graph exercise. I'm not sure I speak for the rest of the class, but any exercise that requires me to narrow my thinking in order to meet the requirements of a preset graph is not helping me to develop my pondering prowess. What’s more is that she still expects us to have a decent rough draft in by tomorrow. Now, I'm not sure if you know how this whole process works, but one requires a solid thesis statement to even begin drawing concepts for their essay proper. I'm talented with words, so it really wasn't a problem for me to create a good thesis statement on my own, but not everyone has an innate talent with language like I do. I estimate that three-fourths of the class will come in tomorrow without their draft, complaining that they didn't have a good thesis to draw from; and they have the right to, Mrs. Sherman didn't explain any of this shit to us. We spent most of the class doing that lame thinking graph thing I told you about, she stopped us about ten minutes before the bell rang so she could hand back the thesis statements we had turned in at the beginning of the period. She hadn't written on them, she didn't even look at them, she just handed them back and informed us that our first draft was due by tomorrow. What a horrible teacher.

Its times like these when I wish I had a little FaceHugger farm, you know, FaceHuggers like in the Alien movies. Whenever I came across someone like Mrs. Sherman I would take one of my pet FaceHuggers, put it in a pet-transporter, and bring it to school. Once I arrived I would leisurely open the door to Mrs. Sherman's room, make sure she was the only one in there and let the damn thing loose. Of course I would have to stop by latter that day and catch the resulting ChestBuster, but the extra work would be well worth the trouble.