Don't get me wrong, Leonard NeMoy is a fantastic Spock, as well as probably the only one who can really be the true Spock, but...
I love Sylar.
I mean Spock.
I mean Zachary Quinto.
I haven't posted in a while. To those of you who read my blog religiously, I apologize. Though, anyone who may read the summary of my teenage years so intently I find may be a little* creepy.
So, hey, homiezz! My two (three?) weeks of silence have not been silenced in vain! I've been bogged down with the final remnants of eighth grade homework. You know, normally, with summer approaching, homework should lessen consistently.
By the way, I HATE QUADRATICS.
...And Ms. Maldonado, too.
Omfg. She's my Science teacher that is a total airhead. Here- I wrote about her in a homework assignment about conflict in school. Feel free to skip it, but it's funny how much I sort of diss her.
For th past nine and a half years at [Schoolname], I've had more than twenty teachers tutoring me through elementary school and preparing me for high school. Among these teachers, I have found an abundant amount of them to be not very likeable. I have had many conflicts with teachers; though, being a quiet, intelligient, caucasian girl, I didn't want to mess up my record at this school, so I wouldn't act on my contradictions. But there is one teacher in particular that I find causes me much difficulty to keep calm and content, and she is my eighth grade Science teacher, Ms. Maldonado. (And I would greatly appreciate it if this essay was not shown to any of my other teachers besides M(r)s. Marino, thank you.)
Since the beginning of eighth grade, I knew I was going to have trouble with her. She chose to switch with M(r)s. H for a year, to try out having an eighth grade class. They chose the year I was going into eighth grade, which was somewhat fine with me. I thought that it would be a fast year, seeing as I was going into high school the next school year. I also had never had Ms. Maldonado for a full year, therefore I didn't really know her as well as my year-round teachers. I would soon get to know her, though.
Three months into the school year, she already started complaining about her job. "Oh, eighth graders are so noisy, I'm so tired." In my opinion, if you'd rather complain about your profession than actually produce satisfactory results, you shouldn't be working in that career choice. Basically, if you don't enjoy it, leave it. Do something you'll enjoy, not something you'll end up being unproductive.
Around the time our former principal, Dr. [Insert name here], passed away (may she rest in eternal peace), Ms. Maldonado dropped our English lessons she was required to do. We learned much later in the year that she was told to teach English by Dr. Hersh herself, and let it go because Dr. [Insert name here] wasn't around to support it. The ironic thing is, Ms. Maldonado doesn't even know how to spell. She's always asking our class if she spelled something on the board right, or there are students pointing out that she missed an 'n' or 's'. There are so many kids out there that desperately need help with the structures of sentences and understanding words in context. Some of these kids attend Armstrong. Some of these kids are in the eighth grade class of 2009! How could Ms. Maldonado drop a lesson so crucial?
The thing about her that irks me the most is when she yells at us for being talkative, and then sits with a select few students and socializes endlessly with them. These students are normally the most popular ones in the class, as well as very social and friendly. Typical popular students, minus the evil, merciless side that are always characterized as stereotypical popular kids. One specific time was when she spent at least half of the class talking to some parent volunteer, supposedly conversing about "something important." They ended up talking for most of our class time, laughing, while we begrudgingly finished the work in the Science book she assigned us so we wouldn't bother her.
I have never expressed my extreme irritation and distaste of her teaching methods specifically to her, but my conflict with her teaching is shared with the majority of my class, I know. Despite her voiced unhappiness with the eighth grade, apparently she's teaching next year, also. She is one of the only reasons why I am so happy about leaving [Schoolname]; I won't have to deal with her (crappy) teaching skills. Maybe next year I'll actually find a teacher whom not only supplies the books and worksheets for us to work with, but may also try to mentor us as well as they can, too.
It's fun ranting about teachers in homework assignments. :D
Anyway, I had some fun these past weekends. Lately, I've been spending Fridays and sometime Saturdays with my best friend, some of her school friends, and my boyfriend. We've finally gotten (somewhat) past the awkwardness in the relationship, and now we're (semi) comfortable with each other. I'm waiting for the downfall in the relationship. I'm going to be pretty anxious for a while now. Sigh.
Okaii, I'm pretty much done.
Oh, by the way, I went from an A-B student to an A-C student. Fornication**! I need to bring up my grades in the next week and a half, or I'll have three C's in my final grades. Shittake mushrooms***.
I hai, by the way, you remember the guy I mentioned in "I'd Hit That; With a Rock", and I spazzed out when he said he was bi?
Yeah. He kind of smexxed his boyfriend. IN THE BUTT. O_O!!! (*nosebleed*)
Sex, sex, sex...
What a wonderful word. Too bad I can be impregnated. Fornication**.
I bet I remind you of your SEX TOY!,
(*- A lot. Very, very much. Stalker.)