This story is based on a teacher called Mrs. blank at blank Mountian blank School. I will reveal no more than that.

      The bell rings and you and your friends start to head towards the door. Suddenly your teacher calls you over. You think "Oh brother, what did I do wrong?"

      The teacher complains about something that wasn't even meant like how she describes. "Do you know how that makes me feel?" she questioned without emotion. The response she wants is "bad."

       She doesn't know about stomach-flipping, head spinning, mind bending bad. If I had the courage I would tell her what bad means. How would I describe bad? I would tell her "bad is the knot in your stomach when the teacher tells you to wait after class." But there is more, "The headach of thinking of what you did wrong; can't think of anything, then what could she think you did wrong in the matter of the 3 second walk to the desk. Or more like torturous struggle down a never-ending hallway to your death." If that's not enough then "terror of being paralyzed in pain without anyway to scream when you try to explain what really happened." That is bad.

      Of course the teacher would ignore everything and state " I heard enough out of you, do you want to go to the office?" No! Although anything would be better then the feeling of being interrogated in a dark room, tied to a chair. Teachers don't understand students' feelings. They just want us in trouble.

This story is dedictated to my friend who understands me and went through the same thing.


The End

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