What would normally be a hectic week of decoration do's and don't's, music mega hits, and the football frenzy we all know and love was actually a very enthralling class period equipped with sing-alongs and even a coupld chuckle-worthy jokes. We sat in our desks feeling particularly naked sans essay, DBQ, or a matrix in hand and we waited for our currently dreaded teacher to emerge from his secret room that he often disappears to during Channel One. So when he reached the podium to take the role, the class noticed the lack of SGA junkies in the corner of the room. The one day we could have survived a discussion, and we have no information to present. Snaps.

 

I was expecting to take a myriad of notes pertaining to the Jeffersonian or perhaps the Jacksonian Democracy we had just barely covered in the previous class period. Alas, we did nothing of the sort. He gave us a quiz instead. A "major-thinking excercise". One that we should have prepared for, but didn't. One that we should have aced, but didn't. One that we should have been able to write blindfolded, but didn't. So, know what he did? He gave us extra credit for simply wearing red and blue. Sure, he was pretty particular about the different shades and tones, but hey---it was something! I still got a D on the quiz, but come on. It's the thought that counts!

 

After our thinking exercise, he just stood there, trying to make pointless conversation with various students about particular areas of interest to them. He was finally reaching out. It was as if his hand was extended to each one of us in attempts of making friends. Amigos. Buddies. Chums. He may as well have sported a white flag, he was finally lightening up and had evidently decided to surrender to the students that sat before him.

 

We soon found ourselves in fits of laughter as students from acrosss the room stood on the table to sing for the class. The choice song was that finght one we always seem to be chanting at football games. And after a very horrid rendition sung by a very diverse trio, our teacher laid the signing extravaganza to a rest.

 

He soon moved on and started to discuss some fascinating, well, perhaps not fascinating but it was sure as hell time consuming, facts about our school's song. From the little blind girl who wrote it to the stupid terbo-geeks who changed it in the 60's, we learned it all. And before we knew it, the bell had rung and were free. And perhaps for the first time in, haha--catch this pun, history, we didn't want to leave. I even noticed some stragglers, just lingering on a bit longer to get a glimpse of our new and improved educator.

 

How did this man go from the epitome of satan to one of fun and frolics? Maybe it was the day. It was Homecoming after all. Maybe the smell of paint from those mighty enhancing posters on the walls just got to him? Or perhaps it was that nifty red & blue checkered shirt he wore proclaiming that he was in fact a bulldawg? Whatever it was, we sure do appreciate the change. And I know, I know...this wouldn't last forever. In fact, just today, two days post-Homecoming, we received a brand new assignment that is sure to kill my grade and my spirit. But, in a way, I'll forgive the guy. After all, he is our mighty mentor that only wants the best for us. Yeah. Ok. Maybe not...