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e_o_i
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That doesn't make sense, does it? Some context:
In the same year (2001-2, counting September to June, as school programs us to) my father had an emergency operation, my grandfather was hospitalized as well and died in February, I protested my school's ban on the Harry Potter books (don't ask), school began stressing me out and I didn't get enough sleep, and I got suspended for slapping my teacher in the face. It was near the end of November, after school. I was doing some homework inside, and she told me she was closing the classroom so I had to work somewhere else. I was stubborn, she walked up to me as if proximity would help me listen, and I got so angry that I turned around and hit her. She yelled and rolled the notebook she had in her hand into a fly-swatter shape, chasing me out the door. Two of the girls in my class were chatting on the stairs; they regarded the scene with much amusement.
I was suspended for three weeks; I did my schoolwork at the library where my dad worked, and when one of the college students asked, I said I was being temporarily home-schooled (library-schooled?) My parents gave me hell at home, but that subsided, and I rather liked working in the library. It was quiet, and I could avoid the students who still made fun of me. It was near Christmas.
The teacher, who was also the principal - small school - figured she wouldn't let me back until after the winter holidays, but she let me go to the Christmas dinner. I held my head high, braving the mockery (that never came because nobody was paying much attention to me). I remember what I wore: black tights and a blue jean dress that ended above my knees. I figured since I was already evil, I might as well be sexy. Of course, being thirteen and myself, I was about as sexy as a piece of lined paper.
But there you go. Aggression. I was a better-behaved student after that, but it always bothered me that when I went to the new school in 10th grade, my math marks went down. THAT would be karma for the "9/11 = 0.81" marked on the desk of the American student, in revenge for some perceived meanness. (More likely, my brain just couldn't handle trigonometry very well.)
Looking back on it now, sometimes I wish I'd dealt with the stress of being a teenager by doing drugs or smoking, something relatable like that. But I was too much of a hypochondriac. ("Was"?)(Yawn - that is something for another day.)
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130530
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