The 8 o’clock Lecture!

“Get your mind back into the class!” The teacher was shouting at all the students in the class. There was chattering all around. Some playing with the pen of their caps, some struggling to stay awake in the 8 o’ clock period (seriously who keeps the class at 8!) and some, surprisingly trying to understand what she was saying. It had always been the same since day 1, but, something was different today.

God! That smell. That delicious smell of umm…let me guess…something sweet, freshly baked out of the oven. Yes, it was the cake. It was the home-science period and guess what, that too in the next class! It was a boon and a bane all-together. Why? THE CAKE DUDE! And bane, well, because we were not going to get that delicious, mesmerizing, chocolate dipped, piece of sweet delight. Sigh! The teachers were the only ones who had the opportunity to taste that heavenly chocolate fudge cake!

Miss, you have diabetes! Stop eating that! How do I know about that? No, I didn’t see the reports. I know that because she is the only one who dramatically announces in front of the whole class, every Friday morning, “Oh no! Not a big piece please, I am diabetic. Just a small one” but always ends up taking almost double than what was being offered (No! We don’t secretly wish that she gets diagnosed with high diabetes and her doctors tells her to cut off all the sweets. WE DON’T!). Do you know what is the worse of all? She keeps that piece in front if us for the full hour until the bell rings. I wonder if it is her technique to get children’s attention.

Summers are the worse. The fans, though always proving out to be ineffective, but, always running as if they will fly away or fell down on “Miss Diabetic”. The “girly girls” (the ones with scary sloth-like makeup, over dramatic gestures, IQ of a two-year-old and no sense of humour) of the class looking like they will die of a heat stroke within 5 minutes, but, well, no luck. Still breathing and shit. Ughh, so frustrating!

The boys (though they look older than my 24 year-old brother) turn out to be the only source of entertainment. Just for others. A big torture for me. How the fuck can a normal person laugh at someone shouting out nonsense or just talking rubbish in their own native language that only themselves invented, will never make sense to me.

Then comes the know-it-all, secret messengers of all teachers. Sitting on the first bench. All of them with a pair of glasses (I bet they wore them on purpose for looking more studious). A message for them- “the teachers do not, I repeat, the teachers do not give extra marks for ear filling and letting them know about who initiated the plan of mass bunk. Grow up. Get a life!”

Last but the best, are people like me. (Yes, I love self praising. Why? Simply because I AM THE BEST!) We don’t do stupid stuff. Yeah, okay I too had my first Gmail account with a really humiliating set of words, and yes, I too had a (very) poor choice of songs. Okay! Yes I made up (very well constructed) stories about how I live in a dream-come-true-house with more than 100 servents, a king size bed just for me, long corridors a big fountain…umm…I was a child (best cover up for each and every stupid thing I have ever done). But, yes, I still consider myself as the best! Why? (Oh! stop asking that again and again). I am still the best because I have grown up now (atleast I try to act like one). Also, people like me, is just me. Before you ask why, that is just because I never considered myself to be like the others and if you get to know me once, I bet you $10 (that is all I can claim) you will accept it.

(Oops! I was telling a story. Calm down girl, that’s enough praising for today).

Now, just so you know, our class is filled with every kind of weirdo. From the guy who just NEVER SHUTS UP to the girl who, I don’t think so, anyone have heard her voice yet in the last 8 years.

Plus, it has always been a struggle getting up at 6, (specially for a night owl like me), getting ready and then tolerating every dumb person you can ever imagine. Every. Single. Day.

I write stuff like this so that I am left with the strength to go back to college every single day. Sorry for ranting almost about everything, but that’s just a precaution so that I don’t hit someone in the face the next time they act out all stupid.


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