9/4 - The Aesthetics of Fried EggMature

It was the first day of school. In the morning, I woke up promptly at 5:45 to take a shower and make myself cheesy scrambled eggs and half a bagel. It was a good morning, made better by the fact that my mother was willing to give me and my little sister a ride to school. 

After huddling in crowded circles with my friends on the quad I head off to my first class- AP Lit. 

Immediately I fall in love with the class. We talk about our ideas of literature and write a couple of sentences with a list of vocabulary words. Fortunately I knew most of them, so I quickly wrote three sentences, one of which was about a delicious and aesthetically pleasing omelet. We were also given a syllabus for the year that promised only four or five essays a semester. My friend Jaclyn and I turned to each other with wide grins. 

"Only a few per semester? Not every week?" Jaclyn asked. I could see she was also practically wiggling with delight. After a grueling year of AP Comp, we seemed to be in English heaven. 

After that I had Pre Calc. I entered the class fairly nervously, not really knowing what to expect since I was recently placed in the class. I sat down in my assigned seat next to another friend of mine. I scanned the classroom finding many familiar faces, all of which I recognized as smart and studious. Leaning over to my friend Tara, I asked if it was an honors class. 

To my dismay she answered "yes". I asked if we had summer homework. To my second dismay, she answered "yes". Inside I was starting to stir with disappointment. I was hoping to take Statistics, but after unfortunate scheduling complications, I was forced to drop physics in order to take the only available math- PreCalc. Even though my teacher, Mr. Weber, had recommended I take his class, I was hoping to avoid it as much as possible. 

Now I was given over one hundred pre-rec problems to do in a week when everyone else was given ten times that amount of time. And I. hate. math. 

Anyway, when we went to go get our massive textbooks in the textbook depository, I had a nice conversation with the Chinese exchange student and a boy I had just met. He was nice enough to walk with me back to class and, to my great relief, we discussed English. In fact, we got so wrapped up in the conversation that we ended up walking up an extra flight of stairs and had to retrace our steps to our great embarrassment. 

Finally the bell rang and I went to lunch with Aria. We went to the nearby coffee shop and I listened in great interest as she told me about her six weeks alone in Africa and how she taught English to children in Uganda. 

Econ doesn't even deserve to be mentioned it was so boring and band was band, although Mr. Charles did introduce some weird new breathing exercises. 

Finally I went home, having to skip the dry-land workout in order to catch my bus. While on the bus, I tried my best to comfort a friend of mine who I had not talked to in a while who was going through a hard time. I also returned a girl her water bottle after she left it on the bus. This made me feel extremely accomplished, as if I had done some great deed. I was happy the rest of the day until I had to start my math homework. 

Stupid math ruins everything. 

The End

3 comments about this work Feed