How To Remember

Chapter One-Brian

English is by far my worst subject of all school subjects.

Well, I’ve never really aced any of my classes. Science was probably worst after English, which is why I’m kind enough to suggest to the teacher not to let me cooperate in chemical labs where explodeable, flammable chemicals could be mixed together (for the safety of my classmates, not just for an opportunity to skip out on a school assignment. See how nice of a guy I am?).

               Then there was world history, the class where our education is all based on dead people.

               Cafeteria aid, the elective that the cranky old counselor gave me because I turned in my elective registration list three days late.

               Gym, where our crazy, bulky, drill-sergeant of a coach makes us run laps every day.

               And strangely, math was my highest grade last term. (I worked so hard to knock up my grade to that C average.)

 

               Anyway, it was kind of interesting how I speak English every day of every month of every year, yet it’s my worst subject of all time. And I never even liked English class. It’s the class where we write the most essays and read the most books, and I really don’t like doing either of those things.

               Plus, my English teacher, Mrs. Schneider, was the strictest, crabbiest old lady who obsesses over Shakespeare and other extremely boring, 200-year-old pieces of writing. The guy created so many homework assignment ideas for us and he didn’t even know we would exist when he was writing. That doesn’t really help my interest in English at all.

               We’ve already been through loads of homework assignments, and it was only October. There was 8 months to go until the next session of summer, and I don’t think I can wait that long.

 

               There was no way I’d be put in the advanced English class, so I was stuck right into the general class. And usually general classes had a bunch of my friends in them, so we could all hate English class all together in one class. But this year, my class didn’t have any of my friends in them. At least, not any I knew really well.

               Schneider’s other general classes happened to be the ones that had my friends in them. I was stuck in this one. And the worst part of it was that this was 5th period English, the class right after lunch. What a great way to end our recess, right?

 

               Wait, that probably wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was probably Aubrie Hoffman.

 

               She sat in the seat right in front of mine. What a brilliant thing to look up to when I faced forward.

She was probably just as crabby as Mrs. Schneider. Maybe even crabbier. The last time I talked to her, I had been asking for an eraser, and when I did, she roared in my face.

               “I don’t have an eraser. I’m busy, so could you stop bugging me?” in this high, nasally, squeaky voice.

               Well, when I imitate her, it’s in this high, nasally, squeaky voice. But that kind of voice would definitely suit her.

               I guess I’d be a nice guy if I tried to talk to her, but I’d rather not be yelled at. Almost every word she’s said to me, it was said in a crabby, cranky, offended way. Maybe she’s unsocial, or maybe she’s sensitive, or maybe she has special needs, but I don’t want to stick around her to find out. I tried talking to her in the sixth grade, around four years ago.