Because really, I’m willing to pay.
Remember that oaf econ half-teacher I smeared on earlier about? She’s back. And she really thinks even more highly of herself even though I can see Mrs. R evaluating crap about her at the back of the class as she goes on and on with her amateurity.
She picked on me again today. As far as I recall, the saying’s something like “Pick on someone your own size.” And I’m not exactly sized like a pachyderm. Yes, she most definitely is.
So anyway, I was minding my own rules and not even paying heed to any of the bull she was feeding the class, (because really, what she teaches is not economics fit for eleventh graders. She drags emphasis on jibberish for six year olds during their recess), and it’s simply a waste of classes.
I sneezed. The maniacs behind me began laughing. And she walked up to my row and rested her thick eyebrowed eyes on my inherent countenance.
“I really don’t understand why you have to distract the class like this everytime. What’s so funny? Just what makes you laugh so much?” she asked. *Whaaaaat?!* I thought to myself. “When did I laugh?!! I think, I just sneezed. And it’s called an allergy, the cause of it.” I shrugged it off. But duh, she had to have the last dialogue in.
Gaahd, she frustrates me.
She went back to the head of the class, and asked for the assignments. No one, barring a bunch of the geeks, had completed them. Plus, I was absent in class on Monday, so I didn’t know the topic for the report.
“This much papers only?” she sounded surprised at the number she was holding in her hand. “This many.” I whispered under my breath. So soft, that even Arad sitting next to me couldn’t comprehend.
And I went back to revising my French verbs.
Completely oblivious to the fact that she’d now walked up almost to my desk.
“Yes, I completely unerstand you don’t like me, but you don’t have to *show* it,” she said with distaste.
“Seriously, what?!” I asked her, astonished. “I didn’t even say anything!” I exclaimed with little annoyance. Resentment, resentment.
“Why are you getting so hyper? I get it that you don’t like me, but you don’t have to take it out by distracting the classroom and making a face a me every time I look at you.” *She* then proceeded to use up all her facial muscles to make the very worst, disgusted expression. Hyper? Should I *get* all hyper and show her what me in a hyperactive state actually is?!
“Really ma’am. I didn’t even say anything. And it’s them who are laughing at you, not me.” I threw my hand back. People around me were just asking me to keep quiet. Why?! But okay, if I wouldn’t have kept my mouth shut, she would have taken all pavements to argue till the end of the day.
Honestly, I have better things to worry about that to try and figure how mad that female was at me.
“Where’s your homework?” she asked with spite. “Exactly where everyone else’s is. On my computer desktop.” I wanted to say. Instead I just chose some amount of grumbling and coherent “I’ll give it to you on Tuesday. No one else has done it anyway.” Jeez, woman. Your teaching sucks, and so do the assignments you set out.
“And what is your name?” she asked, trying to preen hard at my SNEH club badge, which yeah, has my name on it. (And I hate it, because the surname doesn’t say Agarwal. Stupid school, stupid management, stupid laws. Long story, call me later )
“Why, Urmika.” I said. “Urmika.” She repeated, venom spewing out of her ten pound fleshy face. “I want the homework on Tuesday.”
“Gladly.” I told the class, and laughed to myself. Really, I could have opened my mouth. She isn’t even my teacher, or anything. She’s a lump of junk.
Everytime Mrs R leaves the class, she transforms into a dracenae. I’m leaving now, I think I have Business Studies next. No wait, Accounts.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Really. The maturity that such a sordid population posessess.
It’s lovely.
x EdgyShark x
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