you know i am so anal about certain things. english, for example... (i know i am not using caps or anything, but that is beside the point) well it just bothers me that people my age or older cannot spell or write complete sentences worth a damn. i always hated english class though. in seventh grade i got stuck with this strange teacher, mr. knowlton. he supposedly married one of his former students. eww. anyway, this guy was a pain in the ass, he favored all these little chickie-poo girls who would let him look down their blouses. i was so glad when that year was over. but then, wouldn't you know it, i got stuck with him again for eigth grade. well he got stuck with me too, but i am an angel so it doesn't really matter! so anyway, it was another fun-filled year, he would always go through our lockers so it was kind of embarassing. well, i survived that year as well, only getting sent to sit in the hall a couple of times. so ninth grade came along and i got another prize english teacher. well it was kind of nice because our class only had half the english that any of the other years had for ninth grade. we went to english everyother day and we would go to typing class the others. so this teacher, mr. eisle... well we didn't really see much of him actually, see he had these student teachers from the college teaching us; which drove me totally insane. it was and it is difficult for me to learn teaching styles of a certain teacher half way through the year. just my opinion, but student teachers suck, there is no regularity. i need regularity, damnit! okay, so for open house, my mommy wanted to meet all my wonderful teachers. i took her around and we were having a fun time and of course i had saved english for last, hoping that we could forget it altogether. my mom hounded me and i gave in, directing her to the classroom. well the teacher that i knew (the student teacher) wasn't there. in the classroom was good ol' mr. eisle pounding away on the piano. well of course my mother wanted to know how i was doing in the class so she asked him and he told her that he didn't really know because he wasn't teaching the class. well that was a smart thing for him to say, seeing as how his name was on my class list. well he and my mom had a few words, hers obviously hurting his little feelings and making him feel like crap, so the next day i come to english and he says to me, "miss mason, may i speak to you outside please?" well of course, i go outside, and he comes to me and tells me, "you know, i have been talking to all your other teachers and we have come to the conclusion that you have an attitude problem." well, i was pretty much shocked. i mean, my other teachers liked me if they even knew who i was. i mean, i never caused trouble with anyone, i was one of the good kids. but being the smartass that i am, every time i saw this teacher anywhere, i made damn sure that i had an attitude, just for him. so then in tenth grade, i had this wacky, menopausal woman teacher. she would come in and shake our hands every day and would get migranes and go home every other day. that was an interesting year. in eleventh grade wouldn't you know i got mr. eisle again. woo hoo. i was so excited. the first day of class he calls my name and says, "how's your mom doing, miss mason?" attitude. there was a time in that class that i was actually enjoying and that was when we had the student teacher and we didn't have to see that dickhead all day long. he would come in every once in a while to make some lameass jokes or something, but other than that, it was cool. we were reading these poems of famous poets of which i totally forget their names at this moment. we had to write evaluations and such to them as well. well one poem in particular realy struck me. i mean it totally described how i felt at that moment. well, unfortunatly, i wrote that i related to the poem, and it being a depressing poem to certain people; i recieved a little pass to go to the councilor's office. well, i had no idea at the time what the heck i was getting sent to the councilor for. i'm a good kid, remember? well she pulls out this copy of what i had written and asks me about it... tells me that mr. eisle was concerned about me. my ass he was concerned. so she asks me how things are at home and if i am or have ever felt suicidal. well this type of meeting threatens me, so i figure she must want something to go on. so i tell her that i am sad because i have no friends. aww. then you know how easily i cry, well i did. i suppose hearing all this made mr. eisle very happy. i mean, he told me i had an attitude problem, he knows everything. what a man! okay, so that year ended but not without him and the rest of the class making fun of me and this kid i sat with, saying that we fought like married couples and that we made a cute couple and all this shit. whatever. twelfth grade was cool because no one cared about anything anymore, we just wanted to get the hell out of school and the hell out of town. english was a dumb class, we just sat around and watched old episodes of jeeves and wooster. my personal fave, let me tell you. freshman english was cool, i don't know why, but that is when i started getting really anal about things. like our final was to put commas and stuff where they were supposed to go. well i was a bit shocked that people couldn't do that. this woman i worked with a few weeks ago is an english professor at unlv and she was grading some papers one night at work...station break... now where was i? yeah, so she was reading a few of them out loud and i was so incredibly shocked that these people older than me were making such errors. i mean, i am not perfect, but i know how to use a friggen spell check every now and then. good lord.