A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

6

You know, the funniest thing about having a first lesson in a new school is that - at least for me - it doesn't feel any different.

To be honest, I half expected it the English lesson we had first to be taught in a completely different manner to how I was taught.

But no, the whole lesson had the same scheme as it did before. It's throwing me off a little bit, preparing to adjust to what I think will feel like learning a different language and then we're right back to speaking English.

On another note, the first two lessons have gone by Esther quickly. I saw a video at one point, probably when I should've been sleeping but here we are, where you can make lessons appear to go faster by measuring in fifteen minute intervals.

Shit worked pretty damn well so far.

The English lesson went smoothly, Mr Bastrad (or Mr Bastard, as everyone else apparently calls him, which doesn't suprise me) isn't a bastard at all.

A well spoken behemoth of a bear, with a strong pericing gaze, is quite the softy. Despite his demeanor, he came of quite pleasant when introducing himself, offering a huge paw that dwarfed my own. He had to be at least 6'6", maybe taller.

How on earth he puts up with the fact that his name can do easily be turned into a nasty insult is beyond me.

Next lesson, much to my frustration, happend to be maths, which is what I'm currently most of the way through now.

Seen as the majority of students, and teachers for that matter, are so mentally unprepared after such a long break has led to little work in the so deemed "harder lessons."
By that, I tell you I've never been taught my someone who is more fixated on getting everybody situated in the seating plan and taking the register.

It's so blatantly obvious that this Mr Wharton, who you can tell is a little bit unprofessional in his field of work, does not want to assign us anything.

And I don't blame him.

I'm surprisingly physically vibrant today, the energy from last night keeping me going, and I don't feel this power faltering yet.

The teacher at his desk is fixated on his laptop, head on fist, grumpy "I want to fucking end someone" expression plastered across his face.

His absence, although not physical, has let the class fall into a contained chaos.

At the back, where I'm sat, I've managed to avoid the majority of the crumpled bits of paper being thrown around. Every now and then a rudimentary cannonball of an A4 sheets is thrown at someone, sparking retaliation in the form of another barrage.

Reminds me of the excessive bombing in the CoD games.

Luckily, despite everything, I remained undetected. I don't know how I'm doing it, but people walk right past me, like I'm not even there. Noone batted an eye when I walked into class, and noone bats an eye now.

I wonder why

Didn't meet anyone in maths, anyone worth noting really. There was some kid, Jared I think his name was, who spoke a little bit to me.

He was nice and all, a little too talkative, but there was something...off about him.

His pupils were dilated. Like, off-his-face wide. He'd twitch every now and then and stutter over his words, fumbling with sentences like a shit juggler.

So I made a conscious effort to cease anymore conversation with him.

That's enough coke heads for me today.

                                 .....

The more you take into consideration as to how a school day is laid out, the more you begin to realise how much of a prison it is.