Sophie's Blog

School bathrooms may be one of the worst places to be. Especially Middle School bathrooms. They aren’t as well kept as the elementary bathrooms because the parents would explode if their little baby had anything lower than practically gold toilets and sinks. I’ve even seen a few with automatic soap and towel dispensers. But they’re still worse than high school bathrooms because a lot of the students are adults already and will put in their own complaints if their not good enough. But middle school? Its the ‘perfect’ mix between “They’re growing up! I don’t need to baby them anymore!” and “There just kids, they don’t know what there talking about if they complain!” Therefor, the schools have the perfect excuse to have even girl’s (that I hear are somehow of grater quality than guy’s) bathrooms, are absolutely terrible. From the smell of chemicals and moldy water to the gross wallpaper and chipping paint, no wonder the teachers want their own bathrooms! In comparison to our barely-bearable conditions, they have beautiful walls that shine in the dim lighting. Even fake flowers and lavender air freshener! Just like the fish, I’m pretty jelly.

The web definition of extra credit is ‘an academic concept, particularly used in American schools. Students are offered the opportunity to undertake optional work, additional to their compulsory school work, in order to gain additional credit that would boost their grades.’ My definition is when I volunteer to help out a teacher after school to help clean up all the baking powder left over after she dropped a glass bottle of acid on the floor. Yes, acid. as in the kind that eats almost everything it touches. Including small pieces of my teacher’s pants. thankfully it didn’t get to her skin and it merely left splashes of red on the front of her ankles.

But the floor? Wow. I’m nearly positive I’m the only student that’s seen it so far. Honestly? It looks somewhat like mashed potatoes. The floor had to be covered in baking soda to stop the acid, and it ate up a good portion of the floor. When it was first dropped in my fifth period, I was so exited. I’m almost never there when exiting things happen. The puddle turned yellow and the smell of rotten eggs filled the room. The teacher gasped as soon as the glass hit the floor and shattered into twenty pieces. Everyone near the explosion jumped away, everyone farther away jumped up to see what had happened. A student got hit with a drop of the flying liquid, they jumped up and over to the other side of the room by the teacher’s instructions. Everyone still doing their work attempted to get it done in the minutes we had left. A small crowd gathered around the smoking, yellowing ground. The yellow liquid was getting brighter, easier to see now that it was out of the glass bottle and subjected to something, anything, that would allow it to do its job; destroy. I ran over to the door on the other side of the room to prop it open with a tray full of dirt, the best I could do for the moment. The room was getting louder, a student had run out of the room to get the other science teacher, who was currently teaching the above grade in the next room. Our teacher was panicked, yes, she hid it well under the blankets of Calm, Knowledge and Power. But I, and maybe I alone, could see the worry in her eyes. She instructed the hit student to wash it off with the powerful hand soap for the time being as the one from next door raced in with a carton of baking soda. Pouring it around as much as possible, the two quickly instructed the fifth hour class to go out into the hallway as the bell began to ring.

All throughout my next hour I saw my fifth hour teacher walking hurriedly up and down the hall, usually with a man that carried a armful of a big box. I later confirmed it to be more baking soda. Soon after he had to go to the local store to get even more. Later I also confirmed that the sixth hour class had to be moved around the school, four different classrooms in one hour. After that, I also confirmed that my fifth hour teacher was worried, about the hit student, the floor, herself, and all of the other students too. Even as some of my peers asked her how expensive it was going to be to replace such a strong acid that you needed a licence to buy it, she said she didn’t care about how much it would cost, she didn’t care more about a replaceable idem other than her students. Now that’s one amazing teacher.

So I learned something very valuable today, in school. I know right? What are the chances of that happening? But anyways I was in Life Skills working on a group project when I discovered all the jobs we really needed done were already being done. It sucked, until a few moments later, I also realized everything was absolutely boring. I saw earlier how some people were putting big squares of colored paper being the advertisement words and making them pop just a little bit. Me being me (as usual) decided that wasn’t good enough for us. Hopping over to the scrap pile of multicolored construction paper, I picked out the few pieces I could make something out of, cut them into better shapes, glued them together in the perfect pattern and voila! Perfect background for our no-longer boring words! Needless to say, were getting our creativity points.

Texting. One of the many wonderful things about modern-day technology. Now I know the 100 years from now it’ll be laughed at for being so old and kids will be saying “you guys didn’t have some really cool complex new thing that we have now and have based our lives off of?! How did you live?!” Honestly Its pretty funny to think about. no one really knows how much technology will advance in 100 years. To try and think of what it’ll be exactly like is nearly impossible. People have tried and drastically failed. Think of the legend of a movie Back to the Future it tried to see how 2015 would be, they guessed hover-bored’s and regular prices being somewhere around 9,999.99 for a car. Mustv’e been a pretty awesome car I must say. But really, how far off were they? We do have overboard, they’re just not very popular yet. And brand-new cars are pretty expensive. So what are we predicting about the future that will be true?

Tired. That’s the one word I can use to describe my morning perfectly. After staying up until about 1AM in the hotel room with Maddie, Mik, and Liberty, of course they all insist on waking up before the crack of dawn at 6AM. The lights in the room from just one light made me think they had gotten one of the firemen’s flashlights and shone it directly on my eyes. When they all started to walk out of the room and down the hall to the free breakfast, I finally rolled out of bed and grabbed my jacket, running down the hall to catch up. However, it was all worth it for the amazing waffles with rich maple syrup. That is, until we went swimming two hours later, at 8:01 exactly.

Today was the annual Dowling dance, 2015. The theme, Hollywood. Whereas it was an amazing idea, the decor was a bit underdone. I’m pretty sure most people (including myself) really didn’t mind, and still loved the dance! I brought along my Bestie from another town, Emm. Basically, if it weren’t  fro her, Reeses would have always been my least favorite subject. Anyways, the dance was amazing, photo-booth, DJ, Lights. The whole nine yards. I’ll admit though, if it were me, I would have made the whole two and a half hours of it be slow-dances, and I would have kicked out everyone besides me and Kobe. It was probably the best feeling in the world when he stared down into my eyes with his big, bright blue ones. Not to motion the pictures we took together in the photo-booth. He had his arm around my shoulder in most of them, in the rest he held my hand as I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. If I could do the night all over again, I’d do it exactly the same.

So I didn’t really do much today, anything worth mentioning I want really there for… My necklace that I had gotten from Kobe for Christmas finally got fixed after the clasp broke. Sadly, I wasn’t able to witness its re-birth because I’m the only one that qualified for waiting for my little sister to get home from Confirmation (a church thing when your in 5th grade). My dad was at our apartment he rents out fixing little things in the two apartments that just got vacated. My Mom was being driven by my older sister to do some shopping, including getting my necklace fixed. I want it to be a surprise for Kobe, he was so upset when it broke, he didn’t show it, but I know him, I know he was. I really can’t wait until he sees it at the dance tomorrow!

So yesterday, (the third) I went to McDonalds, with a friend of mine after we went shopping for another one of our friend’s Birthdays. But about an hour later, my stomach started hurting. Me being me, I brushed it off and ignored it the rest of the night. However, the next morning it was a bit worse. Once lunch came around, I could hardly STAND it. All throughout lunch I was clutching my stomach and hardly eating. Then mere minutes later, Kobe being Kobe, (adorable for that matter too) asked what was wrong, and seemed to be worried about me for the first time. It was an odd feeling- being worried about. It gave a feeling, deep down in my heart that began to be happy. As if just the feeling of being worried about said everything WOULD be okay. After him recommending it about a hundred times at lunch I finally realized, he’s almost always right, and as much as I hate to admit that, he was this time too. Right after lunch, in my fifth hour science, I caved and called home for them to come get me. I soon come to the conclusion, NEVER, under ANY circumstances, will I EVER eat at McDonalds EVER again.

I officially live in a world of idiots. As I try to actually get some work done in the student library, a group of three eighth grade boys obnoxiously make farting noises. If the entire school wasn’t pretty much based on the older you are, the more power you have, I would’ve yelled my head off at them. In the past ten minutes, there has been one teacher here to yell at them. Where as yes, it successfully has made that noise stop, they now are humming to the tune of the worlds worst American artists. Torture this terrible should be illegal. I command Dungeon time, one hundred years!

Mondays have always been known to be terrible. But my Monday as been so bad, I’d consider it to be a sequel to Alexander and the terrible horrible no good very bad day. Only now, I’m told my parents would come to pick me up after school because I have the after-school Blog thing I work on until 4 O’clock (AKA the thing your reading right now). And after two hours of sitting next to the window on the floor for two hours, while random strangers going to the A-Team’s Basketball game walk past starring and whispering to each other, wondering if the girl sitting by the door is home less. Dear People; no. and I also don’t need help just so i can put that thought at ease to. In case you haven’t noticed, it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, two hours.