My favorite class is homeroom, language.

 

Love it. Love it. Love it.

 

I absolutely adore every single aspect of that class. In general, it's very laid back; we never have to do much. We read lazily every now and then, as a class, sometimes in partners or individually. The teacher's very fast-paced, though, which is odd coming from such a class where we really don't do too much. We hardly have homework -- at least not the little tidbits of work other teachers give out. The only things we ever have to do are essays and actual assignments. And read. Other than that, nothing! I love it. Funny enough, when I was in the guidance office early September and my shedule was being re-arranged (I was transferred into that class) I was really dreading it. A lot. A lot! I tried to get out but it didn't work. I sucked it up and went to the class. The thing was that I heard the teacher was a really hard marker...and he is. 

 

When I first transferred into the class; it was packed. There were virtually no chairs left. The teacher let me sit in his, hahaha. It felt really awkward but I gave up caring halfway through class. I was lost. I didn't know what was going on. I felt like the biggest dumbass when we began a discussion on rhetorical devices and my mind failed me. Stating this quickly, I hated the class on the first day. I wanted to get out and go back to math class. At least I had a slight idea of what was going on there.

 

The second day was better, but not by much honestly. The dude beside me was always late and I had no one to talk to while we were all writing and chatting away with the person beside us. This girl, a friend of mine, sat beside me for the next couple of days. She too was absent or late a lot. The class bored me to death; I was so socially disconnected from everyone. At least I had people to talk to in math class for pete sakes.

 

My friend transferred to the class as well after a week or so. Thank god. It was around that time I got my first assigment from him back. Oh no. I was prepared for a C, if lucky a B. It's not that my English is bad, it's simply because everyone says the teacher's a hard marker, I'm supposed to fail. I recieved a 100 on the first assigment...I figured he wasn't that hard a marker. (He's unbelievably critically though.) But I actually tried really hard, because I was threatened by the class in gerenal. It did me some good. I also did well on the second assigmenment: 98. I believe that's when it started.

 

Most of the class failed the assigment, or at least didn't come close to an A. I felt happy, and very accomplished. (Insert happy fireworks going off in the back of my head here.) I began to really like the teacher. It was okay at first. Really, it was. I mean, you're supposed to like your teacher...yes? I like my teacher all right. A lot more than I should. I blame the good grades. I don't think it's really like, or love, but simply a form of admiration. Or at least I dearly hope it is.

 

10/23/09