So here's how it all started.
The week before the first day, we went to my school to get my schedule. I was thinking of being in all regular classes, unlike the earlier years. Then we had to go for my shots, and it hurt, unlike other years. And then came the first day. I got my schedule, and it had all AP classes, so I asked my counselors to change my schedule.
When I got my schedule changed, I got moved from A lunch to C lunch. A lunch was nice with all my friends, but in C lunch, I felt lonely, and it was very strict, and I had no chance to go back to A lunch, unlike sophomore year, where I was originally in fifth period lunch, but got moved to third period lunch in November. I finally did get to go back to fifth period lunch in May. And junior year, I was in B lunch all year, and my 4th period teacher(French teacher) allowed me to visit other lunch periods on test days. But senior year, I had to go to my 4th period(art) class C lunch everyday, and I did not get to visit B lunch at all, and I did not get to go back to A lunch. They removed me from French class, but they couldn’t remove me from gym. How cruel!
The next weekend, I wanted to go to that then-new store Daiso, but Sis wanted to go to Burlington instead.
My dad said we would have no time to go to other stores, because it was already nighttime. I was annoyed to hear this. When we went home, I burst into tears. I couldn’t even sleep. Mom said, “Stop crying! It’s no use crying as long as we’re not going to Daiso!”
And the next weekend, on Saturday, Risu wanted to go to school, but I repeatedly hollered, “I don’t wanna go to school!”
Dad said, “You better stop crying and misbehaving!”
The next day, on Sunday, I was drawing some pictures, but Dad said, “You should be studying for SAT.”
“Hmph!” I did not want to take Dad’s words.
The next day, at school, Nia, then a freshman, asked, “How was your weekend?”
“Awful,” I replied.
That week, we got our progress reports. I got good grades on all of my classes except English with a D and stats with an F. Dad was mad at me for failing stats. He said, “You think you’re a kid and you can draw pictures and listen to music? You say you’re having bad days like Alexander, but your days are even worse than his! And that is so stupid of you!”
Dad should NOT have ever called me stupid in high school, particularly senior year, because it was time he should have stopped calling me that, unlike fifth grade or seventh grade.
At the end of the month, there was supposed to be the ACT test for seniors, but it got postponed to the middle of the next month.
By that time, my psychology and economics teacher, whom I had for geography in freshman year, got transferred to another school, so it was time to change our psychology classes.
We got our report cards. I passed everything but stats with a freakin’ 44!
The next day was the real ACT day. My left arm was already hurting that I wanted to relax to rest it. But Dad said, “Relaxing is bad! Relaxing is not good! If you fail one more time, we will go to Thailand!”
Two days later, I got my new schedule. I was now removed from psychology and stats and computer science and AQR(a math class) were added, but that bogus gym class was still there.
In gym, there was Queen. I knew her face in junior year, but I never talked to her then. I started talking to her for the first time. She said she was my best friend, but she asked me questions I was not comfortable answering, because she believed that best friends should share private information, which I did not believe. Thus, she was NOT really my best friend.
AQR was easy at first, but as the year progressed, the class was getting tougher and more useless. It was even tougher than the precal class I took in junior year.
The next month, I had started becoming obsessed with that game Candy Crush. It was so addicting that I almost lost my interest in doing other things, be it schoolwork or drawing. I never played that game in junior year or earlier.
And Thanksgiving break was not as great as the one in junior year, because I was doing only Candy Crush. And on Thanksgiving day, Dad told me to grow up, which I did not want to do. But in the Thanksgiving break of my junior year, things were calmer, I was more into my work, and Dad did not have to tell me to grow up, because I was more mature and diligent then. But senior year, I got lazy, and I couldn’t control my emotions.
The next month, a new girl came to my school. Her name was Tamia. She was in my anatomy and economics classes. She showed our teachers her paperwork from her old school. When we were playing Kahoot in economics, she won the game.
On the weekend before finals week, we went to Patel Brothers. Dad lectured me too much and said me to not go on Facebook or play Candy Crush.
The weekend after finals week, I wanted to go to a non-Indian store, like H-Mart or Trader Joe’s, but instead, we went to Patel Brothers again, duh!
And the break went very fast, without a single H-Mart visit, and that brought me down to tears. And I could tell it was already becoming a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, just like Alexander’s day!
When it was time to go back to school, it was time for the second semester to come. Mr. Hughes, the assistant principal, said it was going to be a smooth transition, but for me, it was a rough and tough transition. And there were so many reasons why.
I was getting sick with a very long cough that I couldn’t get rid of immediately.
And the week after my 18th birthday, that I was never excited for, in government class, I told Monica and Tom that my English teacher Ms. Guinn did not teach the material very well, but they said they would tell her I said it. In English class, Tamia told Ms. Guinn the whole story, and I felt embarrassed. I was even scared to tell Dad at first, but when I told Dad, he said I was crying. And I could tell, it was already being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad senior year!
In the awards ceremony at the end of the year, I thought I would get an award, but I didn’t get any, and there were so many reasons why. I didn’t like school, I went on Facebook too much, I was in all regular classes, I was bullied a lot, I could not control my emotions, I had a poor attitude, I did not work that hard, and I was really stupid. I felt so miserable. Mom said junior year was better, because I was calmer, smarter, more diligent, took pre-AP classes, got better grades, had a more positive attitude, did not have Facebook, and did get to be class favorite, and I agreed with her. But in senior year, because I was stupid, I did not get any awards at all.
Only the really smart people got awards, like Ben. He was smarter and more diligent than I, took all AP classes, got some scholarships, did not go on Facebook much, and never complained about his work. And so did Jake, who got an award in stats. And so did Gigi, Casey, Cassidy, Hudson, Kain, Chastity, Kramer, Rocky, Elise, Etayehu, Maria, Queen, Graciela, Elizabeth, Ford, and Sheldon, but not Taylor, Will, Sarah, Austin, Marc, and Nick, or even Tamia or Dez or Monica or Tom.
And then came graduation day.
Even after graduation, I still had a lot of work overload in the summer that I had much less time for favorite stuff, unlike my other summers. I had to take the TSI test over the summer. I got so many punishments, like on July 12, I wanted to listen to the radio, but Dad had to turn off the radio and lecture me all night. And on July 31, I wanted to go to a mall, like Northpark, or any store other than Burlington, like H-Mart or Michael’s, but Sis wanted to go to Burlington itself instead just to return her clothes, and we went to Burlington only. Then we went straight home. It felt too early to go straight home, but we had to, because I had to practice for the TSI test. And I felt too old for those punishments, but sorry, I was very immature, I had to do all that work, and Dad had to lecture and punish me too much and treat me more like a baby than a grown adult. And it really was an abysmal year for me. It was an ugly, horrendous reality, though everyone expects it to be easy and fun. Don’t judge a book by its cover, so don’t judge a year by your friends’ reviews. And junior year, which my friends said to be the hardest year, was actually nice for me. My hardest year was none other than senior year, which everyone else thought of as the easiest. Senior year treated me very unfairly.
And senior year reminded me of the Middle School books very much, because Rafe, the protagonist of those books, loved drawing more than school and was often called stupid, just like me...
