Sunday, November 27, 2005
Numbers. I just love my URL, what about you? I mean like, numbers. Not any old word, or any old letters.
That's called creativity, people. And not just any old numbers too. Each of those numbers contain a very meaningful insight into them.
Ah, whatever. I use word which I don't even quite understand. (:
That's called smart, people.
The holidays have started, but I haven't quite started on my holiday homework. Ah, the joy of homework. The beautiful stress. The most wonderful mind-splitting headaches one gets to enjoy. The traumatising effects of chemistry and physics on the mind. Just for some.
That's called sarcasm, people.
I've developed this new weird eagerness for a new violin. Not new as in brand new, but a new old violin. Oh dear. My current violin wouldn't be too pleased to hear that.
Oh dear.
I positively despise Shakespeare.
The same goes for teachers who scold you for no good reasons and read their lessons off a powerpoint slide, who pick on you just for the fun of it (and I am NOT kidding, he told me so himself), and teachers who just mumble their way through lessons. It sounds like this: Mooringlass.Mararyewhooay?Armorfixshecher.Isurnhoohagefixytoooforhexbuk.
The actual: Morning class. How are you today? I'm your physics teacher. Please turn to page sixty-two of your textbook.
There you go. A classic example.
So, these were my teachers this year:
-a form teacher who enjoyed picking on me for the fun of it.
-a lit teacher who thought she was tweety's wife.
-a PE teacher who by far I have nothing much to complain about yet.
-a chemistry teacher who loves to stare at us with her huge eyes. (and I am not kidding)
-a chinese teacher who loved scolding us, then would scold us for making her scold us etc etc.
-a maths teacher who thought she had a period or two everyday.
-an english teacher who told not-funny stories rather than get on with the lesson.
-a physics teacher who ressembles a teapot (short and stout) [a guy by the way]
-our bio teacher was our form teacher.
-so was our MEP teacher. [how lucky can we get, you tell me]
There you go. The weird, eccentric, crazy teachers of 1 Faith '05.
Oh, the torture we suffered.
Okay, maybe not.
9:15 pm
