Twenty-Two

Another birthday, come and gone. I still don't feel any older, and haven't really since, like, thirteen or something I dunno.

No party, just chicken spaghetti at my parents place. A Barnes & Noble gift card and an origami set. A whiteboard decal that was ruined when I tried to put it up because my brother is too lazy to get out of the chair and help someone, even on their birthday.

School goes and I'm trying to play catch-up now that I finally have my books (save the MathLab packet). All I have to do for that one is pass - as in, make 60% or higher. I'm not setting the bar very high here. Especially since I can't even understand the guy's accent.

Anyway, on Thursday I got out of my language history class early, so I'm waiting for the current Algebra class to leave. Class starts at 1:40 - I got there about 1:25. I'm standing outside the room with five or six other people until about 2:00. Slowly, it begins to dawn on us that our class has already started, and he's been teaching for the past 30 minutes.

I repeat - class doesn't even start until 1:40. He was already teaching at least 15 minutes before anyone was even supposed to be there. Those of us outside made a decision - if he's going to teach early, then we'll be leaving early thank you very much.

So I guess I got the day off from Algebra for my birthday, because even if we had gone in, we would have been counted absent for missing more than 15 minutes of class. Because HE doesn't know how to read a damn clock. That doesn't inspire any confidence in my supposed math teacher.