My 7th Grade Job

Part 1, Starting School

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"YOU'RE BODIES ARE CHANGING! You hear me? So you need to wear deodorant or else you will smell like garbage! And I am NOT dealing with that horrific scent in my classroom." 

You know you're going to love your homeroom teacher when she makes it clear that neither she, nor your body, likes you, on the first day of school. But, to be fair to her, she's been teaching the beasts known as twelve and thirteen-year-olds for over eight years now, so I'm sure she's had her fair share of kids who smell like horse shit.

I'm Thomas Arrasta, and I just arrived at the most magical place on earth: middle school. The date is marked Wednesday, September 4th, my anxiety on a scale of one to ten is a cool six, and I have begun today what my homeroom teacher calls My 7th Grade Career. I heard once that a career is something you do, but love, and a job is something you do, but don't like. So from this point on I will call this year, My 7th Grade Job.

It's not that I don't like school or I'm bad at it or anything; I actually do pretty well in school. It's just that, well, I would prefer to be at the library reading myself to death or watching YouTube or something. But I'm stuck here, at St. Agnus, sitting next to a kid who clearly forgot to wear deodorant, and needs to consider Mrs. Venny's recommendation of personal maintenance very seriously.

Professor Snape's doppelganger over here is practically dancing across the classroom floor at this point. "So this year, we are going to be moving very quickly, so everyone needs to keep up, and ask questions. And remember, there is no such thing as a stupid question." 

No such thing as a stupid question you say? Is that a challenge Mrs. Venny?

"Now, let's begin class. As you know, I will be your science teacher this year, as well as your homeroom teacher, so we will get to know each other very well. We're technically in science class right now, however, I would like to begin the year by getting to know each and every one of you. I will now hand each of you a sheet of paper. It will contain a series of categories pertaining to you as an individual, and you will fill them out accordingly. Each will be collected at the end of class."

Jesus Harold Christ, does she talk a lot. I appreciate that she gets right to the point though. She spins around the room, floating in sea of oakwood colored desks, handing each student a piece of paper as she swims by. 

Mrs. Venny pulls up that traditional "Welcome Back to School!" presentation on the Smartboard at the front of the classroom. Every year school welcomes me back, but I never seem to return the favor. Our mighty captain takes charge from her cozy little teacher's desk in the corner of the classroom, supposedly to supervise her crew of tweens. The 'lockers', which are literally just closets mind you, are on my right. I sit comfortably in the middle of the room; not too far, but not too close to the front of the room. The perfect place to pay attention when needed, and doodle when not.

I start filling out the Get to Know You sheet Mrs. Venny handed the class. She's acting like she's some innovator by handing the students one of these sheets, but teachers usually give one of these every year. It's always the same basic stuff.

I start having some fun talking to the paper in my head. 

"What's my name? Well, it's Thomas of course! What do you want to know next? My favorite hobby? Now, I have a question for you. Why do you care?"

There's a question on this year's sheet that catches me off guard, however. The question asks, "What do I think about myself?" I consider putting down "supa sexy" but resist my urge to be sarcastic on the first day of school. To be honest, I have no idea what I think of myself. 

I've always been that average kid; I'm not a sports guy, but not completely unathletic. I'm not that shy kid in the corner feeling bad for myself twenty-four-seven, well not like I used be at least, but I'm nowhere near popular. I guess if I had to pick any label I'd pick "nerdy" but that doesn't quite fit me either. What do I think of myself? Honest to God, I've really never thought about it.

I mark "I think I'm pretty swell, " down for that question and move on to the others.