The (Not so amazing) adventures of Max

Fourteenth Entry: The Odyssey of Mr. Dreadmore

Friday, August 18

Okay. I officially have a beef with Mr. Dreadmore.

So, first, let me just say: I survived the Odyssey assignment. Barely. I stayed up way too late last night, frantically writing about Odysseus's "bravery" (I'm not even sure that's a real thing, but it sounds good) and hoping my handwriting was legible enough to get me a passing grade. By the time I walked into history this morning, I was so ready to hand it in and forget about it that I could've danced my way to the front of the class.

Then, Mr. Dreadmore made me regret every decision I've ever made in my life.

He didn't just collect the papers like I expected. No, no. He had us read our analyses out loud. He went down the list, calling on people one by one, and I was praying I wouldn't get called. Because, if I'm being honest, I didn't really read the Odyssey. I read the sparknotes. That is the real hero's journey here.

But of course, when he called my name, it felt like the universe was just laughing at me. I got up, walked to the front, and then, as I started reading, I could feel Mr. Dreadmore's eyes boring into me like lasers. He was this close to throwing a spear at me if I got even one fact wrong. I tried my best to make it sound like I actually knew what I was talking about. I'm pretty sure I said something about how "Odysseus's leadership skills were tested during his journey"—like, what does that even mean? But it sounded good, so I kept going.

Then, it happened. The thing that will go down in history as the moment Mr. Dreadmore and I became enemies.

He interrupted me in the middle of my "analysis," raised an eyebrow, and said, "That's an interesting interpretation. Too bad it's wrong."

I froze. The entire class went quiet. It was like I had stepped into the twilight zone.

"Odysseus wasn't just a leader. He was a hero. He didn't need to 'test' his skills. He lived them," Mr. Dreadmore continued, practically sneering. "You might want to double-check your sources, young man."

I swear, I felt my face turn so red, I could've roasted marshmallows on it. I managed to mumble out a "Yeah, I'll do that," and I quickly sat down, feeling like I'd just failed an entire semester.

After that, I spent the rest of the period feeling like I had a target on my back. Mr. Dreadmore now knows my name—and I'm pretty sure he's going to make it his personal mission to make my high school life as miserable as possible.

Honestly? I kind of want to make it my mission to get one over on him. This whole "teacher-student" thing is about to turn into a full-on rivalry. I'm not sure how yet, but I will figure something out.

Mr. Dreadmore, consider this a declaration of war.