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| Acmlm's Board - I3 Archive - Writing - (Short story) That'll Be the Day |
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Toxic 250 TOX4ADMIN                    Since: 11-17-05 From: I'm keeping a list. Last post: 6296 days Last view: 6295 days |
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| There is a bit of context behind this, but I want to see what other people think without knowing the context.
In Room 101 of Miller High, a perplexing series of events was unfolding in front of John Joannes. He had just been handed a test titled “Problems on the Intermediate-Value Theorem,” which was apparently a facet of calculus. However, the problem was that Joannes was in trigonometry, and he hadn’t even begun to take pre-calculus, much less the full- blown calc class. He scanned the room, and no one else seemed to notice. All the other students were scribbling away furiously. The test was on a Scan-tron sheet, and so number 2 pencils were provided by the teacher, Mr. Shaw. As Joannes put the pencil to paper to write, it promptly broke the lead on the curve of the first “J” in his name. A symphony of cracks echoed across the room. Every single pencil that Mr. Shaw had handed out was faulty, and all twenty-two students in his trigonometry class taking the calculus test raised their hands in unison to request permission to sharpen their pencils. Mr. Shaw, who was deeply engrossed in Mussolini: The Last 600 Days of Il Duce, did not seem to notice the rush of air created by the wave of hands. A girl in the corner coughed and ventured, “Mr. Shaw, can I sharpen my pencil?” “Me too?” “What about me?” “Can I?” All shot out in rapid bursts at Mr. Shaw, who still seemed like he didn’t notice. After a full thirty seconds of silence, he responded with a simple “No” and that was that. Twenty-one students didn’t seem to mind too much. After all, now they had the next seventy minutes to talk amongst themselves. But sitting directly in the middle was Joannes, who said, “But Mr. Shaw, how are we going to finish the test if we don’t have anything to write with?” Mr. Shaw didn’t hear him, or didn’t care, because he sat oblivious for the next seventy minutes, despite Joannes’ constant barrage of questions. When the bell finally rang, Joannes walked quickly out of Room 101, and nearly bumped into Mr. Hooting, the school’s vice principal. He was a short man, who measured everything in respect. It was rumored that he did actual work, but no one really believed it. For the most part, he wandered the hallways, patrolling for violations of the school’s 463- page rulebook. “Excuse me sir, please take your hat off,” Mr. Hooting said to Joannes. “But Mr. Hooting, I don’t have a hat on.” “That’s no excuse, go get one, and put it on, then take it off.” “But then I’d be late for my next period class,” said Joannes. “Is that my fault?” asked Mr. Hooting, “You’re the one breaking the rules, and disrespecting myself and your fellow students.” At that particular moment, another youth passed them wearing a Philadelphia Eagles cap backwards. “Yo, Miztah H-unit, represent!” said the urban youth to Mr. Hooting. “Good afternoon Maximilian,” Mr. Hooting greeted him. “Why didn’t you tell him to take his hat off?” shouted Joannes, enraged at this double standard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, you’ve procrastinated long enough. Come with me to my office, and we’ll work out a plan of discipline for your behavior.” Mr. Hooting reached to his side, and pulled out a state-of-the-art mobile cellular device (considered contraband to students) and clicked a button. The chime of an outgoing two-way sounded, and Mr. Hooting proceeded to shout into the receiver, “Mr. Wally! I have another student for ETPFSINOAD!” ETPFSINOAD stood for Extreme Treatment Procedure For Students In Need Of Advanced Discipline. It was an all-night program that kept students in school from 2 o’clock, when school ended, until 6 the next morning. Theoretically the students had time to go to their houses and prepare themselves for the day, but they were all too tired, after staying up all night. Joannes was no exception, and the next day he stumbled bleary-eyed into his first period class. In a cruel twist of fate, the teacher was out, subbed by a German woman by the name of Frau Braün. By the same cruel twist of fate, she was a very agitated and pained woman, who proceeded to scream and shout at the class until she turned blue in the face and passed out. In an unrelated but equally cruel twist of fate, she was replaced within minutes by her twin sister, who was also on substitute duty. After the other Frau Braün screamed about how incompetent they were for the next thirty minutes, the class stumbled into the hall, thanking the bell for its miraculous powers. At that particular moment, an odd noise caught Joannes’ attention. He whirled around to see the source of the noise, and, to his surprise, saw a huge walrus in a suit and tie waddling down the hallway. It was a massive creature, with big long whiskers bristling as he made his way through the halls like a sloth. Joannes had stopped to gawk at this creature, but upon further investigation, no one else seemed to notice. Not a single person paid the walrus the least bit of attention. Mr. Hooting caught up to it, and began talking with it. Upon even further investigation, Joannes would come to discover that the creature was known as Mr. Wally, and was the principal at Miller High. “Now Mr. Wally, we’ve had a spike in ETPFSINOAD attendance, it’s up by 35%.” One walked, and the other waddled to Mr. Wally’s office, which consisted of a pool with an island in the center. On the island were a few papers, which were splattered with blood from the fish that Mr. Wally caught out of his pool and ate. Mr. Wally proceeded to jump into the water from his perch on the island, causing a large splash and stayed submerged for a few seconds before surfacing. He barked a few times, and pointed his snout to the inflatable ball on Mr. Hooting’s side of the office. Mr. Hooting walked over to it, and tossed it to Mr. Wally, who balanced it expertly on his nose. Mr. Hooting continued, “Now, as you know Mr. Veyder, the superintendent, told us specifically that we need to fail exactly half the student body, if we want to get the grant from the state.” Mr. Wally barked, in recollection, as Mr. Hooting had told him that he would get his very own iceberg with a piece of that grant. “Now, I have an idea for us to get that grant. If you go in front of the school committee, and request special powers to deal with a serious threat to education, then we can implement my strategy.” So Mr. Wally went in front of the school committee, and through a translator, Mr. Hooting, he explained that kids nowadays weren’t actually learning things in school, and that he needed more power in order to save the future. He was given a standing ovation by all present, and was granted the powers. The first thing he did was to make the required amount of classes needed to pass for the year was nine. The schedule employed at Miller High was one that had a capacity of only eight classes. Mr. Hooting figured that hardly any students would even notice the sheet passed out in homeroom explaining this, and even less would take the time to go to classes after school. He was right, of course. One of the few to notice was Joannes, who read the memo from the administration at MHS like a father reads a telegram informing of a son killed in action. “Nine credits,” he said through clenched teeth, “How am I going to pull that off?” He surveyed the classroom, expecting to see everyone up in arms over this issue, but instead saw no reaction at all. Half the homeroom had crumpled up the paper, and the other half didn’t even bother to look at it. The morning announcements came on, with a special announcement from Mr. Wally. Mr. Wally couldn’t speak English, so he barked, interpreted by Mr. Hooting. “Good morning. This is Mr. Hooting speaking for Mr. Wally. The administration would just like to remind you of some school policies that we feel have been overlooked recently. First off, there is to be no eating whatsoever in the school at any time. What’s that?” Mr. Hooting was heard whispering away from the mic for a few second before he came back. “Excuse me, eating is permitted only during the time allotted at lunch. Next, there are to be no hats, bandannas, handkerchiefs, sombreros, masks, face paint, or any other type of headgear permitted in school. Also, no electronic devices of any sort are to be used during school hours. If seen, they will be confiscated immediately. We feel that these rules have been overlooked the past few months, and hope that you realize why they are being enforced as such.” Joannes didn’t understand why they were being enforced at all. The very idea of banning food and drink and electronic devices annoyed him. The administration had cell phones that they used to communicate with each other, so why should they be allowed to use them and the student body not? “Because administrators need them to communicate with fellow staff members,” Mr. Hooting said to Joannes who tracked him down following the announcement. “But that’s the point of cell phones,” Joannes said, trying to reason with him. “People use them to communicate with other people.” “There will be none of that. Your job here is to learn, not communicate with other students.” Joannes stared blankly at him, before moving on to his next period class, which he spent outside of the classroom. It was room 22, and his teacher for that period, Mr. Kelples, wasn’t the normal occupant of that room. So he had to rely on the actual teacher for that room for the key. However, that teacher had come down with an acute case of pneumonia the night before, and no one had a key to the room. Mr. Kelples sent students out looking for someone with a key, but not a single person had the key to unlock room 22. No janitors were to be found, and all administration were in inhouse meetings all period long. The following day, a massive number of teachers took the day off. Sitting in homeroom, the call for teachers to cover classes was gargantuan, and all the familiar subs were seen looking at their schedules of classes to sub. After three periods of classes without teachers, Joannes found a memo lying on the ground. Teacher sick days had been increased by 25%, and a large portion of the teachers were cashing in on it, not wanting to pass an opportunity like this up. The effect after the first week was staggering. For every teacher that actually showed up, two didn’t. Busywork followed students from class to class. It went on for several weeks, before they began to slowly trickle back after their days were all used up. Junior prom was the next event on the horizon, and the school went into high alert mode. Everyone was frantically scheduling tannings, nail appointments, tux fittings, and buying dresses they'd only use once. Schoolwork itself was for all intents and purposes forgotten. A day before the prom itself, all the juniors were called out of class for an assembly on the prom. As the students filed in, they could see Mr. Wally and Mr. Hooting deep in conversation. Joannes sat in the front, next to two students he had never seen before, or at least he thought. He couldn’t really remember, but before he could attempt to recognize them, Mr. Hooting shouted into the mic. “Now I won’t ask you again. Shut up. You are being highly disrespectful to myself, the school, the school district, Mr. Wally, the state, and education as a whole. And your fellow classmates. Now, as you might have heard, the prom is tomorrow. Mr. Wally has a few words for you.” Mr. Hooting tossed the mic to Mr. Wally, who balanced it on his nose. The auditorium applauded politely, before Mr. Wally flipped it back to Mr. Hooting. “Now, since Mr. Wally doesn’t speak English, I’ll read his speech for you. The prom is an extension of the school; therefore all rules will be enforced to the letter. As a way to deter students from participating in any illegal activities, Mr. Wally has provided for the school a fully staffed drug lab, complete with a trained set of German Shepards, ex-DEA and ex-BATFE members, and a metal detector. It is sure to deter students from making any poor choices. I will warn you, though, if you act funny, smell funny, eat funny, look funny, breathe funny, dress funny, bring a funny date, count money funny, or question the school, we’re gonna take you downtown, Leroy Brown. You may return to class now.” The prom was being held at a factual imitation of some Hotel de Ville in Normandy. In what was hailed as the first of its kind by the “Fun Committee” of MHS, the prom was in fact a costume prom. Joannes went with Tabitha Dagmar, a 10th grader who was like most of her classmates, educationally challenged. All attendees were required to wear a nametag that read “Hi, I’m…” and the person would fill in whatever they had chosen to wear. There were about 50 “pimps,” even more “gangsters,” and most of all “rappers.” Tabitha had gone as a rapper, more specifically, Kathina Wellington, more commonly known in the world as Krazy Wellz Kat aka MC Suga Funk Lovin’. Joannes had gone as Karl Marx, and had some trouble getting past Mr. Hooting at the door, with his “dress funny” policy. After five minutes of debate, Joannes simply told Mr. Hooting that he was a comedian from the early 1900’s. Joannes didn’t even want to be there. His mom informed him that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go. Rather than fighting over it, Joannes just coughed up the $101 dollars to go. For the first ten minutes Joannes danced with Tabitha, but sat down when another rapper came over and asked her to dance. He had a miserable time, and was glad when it was over. The constant thump of the bass from countless rap songs had left his brain pulsating. Mr. Hooting had two chaperones and a waiter taken to the drug lab, where it was later revealed they all were drinking root beer, not Jack Daniels, as Mr. Hooting had previously suspected. A week passed, and then it was time to start preparing for National Honors Society. The requirements had been lowered a little bit, and now a student needed a 1.0 GPA and 5 hours community service. Of the 241 students in the junior class, 15 applied, and 10 made it. Class officers were elected by drawing straws, and Joannes got president of the chapter. They held a practice in the auditorium, barely filling a single row of seats. The rehearsal was quick, and the teacher advisor, Mr. Smith, a gym teacher, informed him he had to write a speech to recite in front on Honors Night. Joannes had no idea what to write, as no examples were given to him of a speech. He went to the National Honors Society website and just copied the “five pillars,” scholarship, service, leadership, character, and citizenship, onto a sheet of paper to work with. Joannes considered himself a realist, and knew that no one actually qualified besides him under the scholarship aspect. He had a 3.6 GPA, and the next highest was a .97. Mr. Smith, the advisor, just signed part of the football team up for the other 9 spots. Then, with service, the only reason some of the football team made that standard was because of prior felonies that required community service. If by character the NHS meant a colorful person, then they had 9 who exceeded the standard in that respect. As for citizenship, Joannes assumed they were all from America, and that’s all he could really ask for. The night of the ceremony, as there were no senior members, the juniors ran the show. The auditorium was packed full of faculty that signed up to escape after school meetings. Mr. Smith introduced the junior members' administration, and asked if Mr. Walrus would come onstage. With some flipping and flapping, he made his way onstage, and since he spoke no English he arfed, and then balanced a ball on his nose, to much fanfare from the audience. Mr. Smith came back and thanked Mr. Wally for that, and asked if John Joannes would address the audience. Joannes brought his speech to the podium, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He was a very nervous person, and behind the podium his legs were buckling. “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to thank our distinguished guests for coming tonight, Mr. Veyder, superintendent of the schools, Mr. Wally, our principal, and Mr. Hooting, our vice principal. If it weren’t for those two gentlemen and one walrus, Miller High School would be a much better place.” At this point, a din rose in the crowd. “These beasts have turned our school into a money making device, more interested in collecting coin than helping collegiate careers. They are out of touch with the student body, and are incapable of enacting a measure to help students. Mr. Veyder, how much did that Lexus you drove in cost? Surely you could have bought a new computer lab with that money? Mr. Wally, you’re a walrus. Why are you the principal? And you, Mr. Hooting, maybe if you spent less time barking at students to take their hats off, and took one look around the building, you would see the sorry state of affairs at Miller High.” The crowd roared at Joannes, and Mr. Smith stepped up and physically moved Joannes from the podium. Through gritted teeth, he managed, “Now to light the Candle of Knowledge.” Mr. Smith pulled a Zippo lighter from his inside pocket, and handed Joannes a Yankee Candle Buttercream. It took three tries, but the Zippo caught, and Smith extended the light to Joannes. With a flicker, the wick burned slowly, and Joannes held it close. Then, with a click, the lights in the auditorium were extinguished. People screamed and yelled, sending janitors scrambling to hit emergency backups. It was no use, as an entire generator had been knocked out. But there was Joannes, standing onstage, arm outstretched, holding the Candle of Knowledge. the context is that the principal of my high school looked like a walrus, and I hated him. mr. hooting was, albeit a different name, one of our VP's, and mr. Veyder was the superindentent that I hated as well of our district. |
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Bloodstar  660 blue boar boobies Fatal error: Allowed memory size of 8388608 bytes exhausted (tried to allocate 35 bytes) in /var/www/acmlm.org/board/profile.php on line 42  Since: 11-17-05 Last post: 6296 days Last view: 6295 days |
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| My god, this was a funny story. I especially like the ending... Pretty strong message there.
Spoiler:
(How having a decent education can "light things up," so to say. Not even knowing the context just made it better. I loved how you even went so far as to make the principal a walrus. XD |
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Hiryuu Sword Maiden Retired Admin  Since: 11-17-05 From: Nerima District - Tokyo, Japan Last post: 6296 days Last view: 6296 days |
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| Almost how I felt growing up in a grad class of 20 people. At least they had a bit more hope than the one shown here.
Though, I probably would've written similar back in the day. Good god, I'm glad I'm out of school now. |
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Schweiz oder etwas [12:55] (Dr_Death16); I swear, the word drama needs to be stricken from the dictionary, for I've heard it so many times, it will permanently be imprinted on my brain  Since: 11-17-05 From: Kingston, Rhode Island Last post: 6296 days Last view: 6295 days |
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| By the way -- This is based on a true story. |
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