Project Fail

http://www.newsobserver.com/news/story/1495581.html



The whole graduation project is STUPID. The sophomores are the highest class required to complete the project. The seniors and juniors don't have to complete it anymore. IT'S SO STUPID!
Ok, so why they make us do this in the first place is completely ludicrous. First of all, it costs about half a million dollars (http://www.newsobserver.com/news/story/1495581.html) to fund this thing, and that's money that could be spent WISELY elsewhere. I mean, no one wants to do this project. Everyone I've asked or heard indirectly from says they don't want to. I even bet some people won't decide to do the project. If $500,000 is going into this thing, then the Wake officials need to know that some of this "wisely spent" money is going to be wasted. Second, there's a budget cut next year(http://abclocal.go.com/wtvd/story?section=news/local&id=6739377), and that means teachers' jobs and even some programs-- art, music, PE, and foreign language-- will be eliminated. And yet there's enough money to spend on plasma screen TVs for EVERY CLASSROOM and new flat-screen computers for the library. But there's not enough money for teachers and special programs? Third, it's a pass/fail grade(http://www.wilkes.k12.nc.us/wwhs/graduation/GradProj/GradProj.ppt#281,24,Slide 24), meaning that if you pass you graduate, and if you fail, you don't. So if someone decided not to do the project and he/she was a straight-A student with high honors, they couldn't graduate. It makes no sense.

My proposals:
1. Cut the graduation project. Spend that $500,000 on more important things like teachers' salaries. Teachers don't get enough money, and yet some officials get pay raises.
2. If the elimination of the project just isn't possible, have the school educate its students better. Freshman year, all we did was spend fifteen minutes every week trying to think up a topic. Sophomore year, we spend fourty-five minutes every two weeks thinking up an "essential question" as a thesis statement, of sorts. Junior year, we're supposed to actually research the project topic and start the paper. And senior year, we're supposed to complete the presentation and gather the portfolio. In my opinion, junior and senior year we spend lots of time preparing for college, the SATs, and AP exams. We don't have the time to complete a paper, portfolio, and presentation. We haven't been given enough preparation and guidance other than a few pieces of paper and ink.


So that's all I have to say. I'll just say, even my parents disagree with the idea.

Ruined

Why do you have to do this?
You've perverted
Something so beautiful
And innocent
And turned it into
A statement
A slogan
A way of life...
The opposition
Feel the censorship
In what colors we wear
And when we speak

Why did you pervert it?
An innocent rainbow

Epic of Life

This sucks.
This completely
And utterly sucks.
There's too much at stake
In regards to my health
For me to do anything
But submit to
My master-
Homework.
It controls me,
Whips me into shape
And into submission.
If I don't comply,
It kicks me
And beats me.
I stay up late at night
Breaking my back
Over the load.
Then, when I arise,
It's there, waiting
In the form of school.
I endure this other master
With little tolerance
And then they
Hand me over...

Once more
I am enslaved
To Homework
As it's whipping me
And tormenting me.
I barely acknowledge
Freedom
Anymore,
For I do not know
What "Freedom" is.
Is Freedom another master?
Is it bent on
Torturing me?
If so,
Then I shall not have it!

I am a slave
To myself...
For letting homework
Overrun my life
And for letting school
Get the better of me.
It sucks...
And the cycle repeats...

Sorry, but...

This sucks.
Utterly and completely sucks.
I hate this.
I hate school.
I hate HOMEWORK.

So my teacher assigned a lot of homework tonight. Well, it didn't seem that much until I started after soccer practice (as in 7:15).
I had to finish a week-long math assignment, which was so much harder than anticipated. Even my BFF didn't get the homework. I still need to do the in-class worksheet and the review pages in the textbook. That's just in precalc.
In Civics I have a test sometime soon, and then a project due next week, which I need to finish. It includes a book report on a book my mom turned in already... which wasn't good.
English is tough. We have a vocab test tomorrow on words from Lord of the Flies (ick), plus tonight's share of words. Luckily, and thank goodness for her, my BFF found the page numbers beforehand, so she gave them to me. I'm in the process of completing them. Also, we have an essay due Monday and the graduation project (urg, don't get me started on that) research due on Tuesday.
Latin is a bit less, though I need to do it. I have a passage I need to read, on which we are having a quiz tomorrow. Monday our vocab words are due (in the form of write-offs) which I need to start.

*Sigh* This is a fun night. Time for an all-nighter... erg. I fell asleep in first period this morning because I was up late finishing homework. Oh, well. Yay for procrastination.

Sick

Even though it's only been like two weeks since I was in Band, my tone has died. So I've been practicing randomly cool songs so I can actually sound good next year.
Yeah, I just play the same random songs... over and over...

Aside, I feel pukey now... Not nauseous pukey but like a different kind of pukey... *I hate hormones* Yeah, he's not for me, and I don't want this, but some other part of me... my evil twin, maybe... wants it. I'd hurt my BFF majorly, since we made this no-boyfriends pact thing. Yeah, it's a bit hard being torn in half... I hate it. But at least I'm grateful he doesn't feel the same about me. Love is stupid, and blind. Wow, this is sad. I hate love (wow, ridiculous oxymoron), yet I write about it all the time. Says something about priorities.

I actually posted this on my other blog, but then I realized my mom had access to it... and that would be a disaster. Anyway, I actually have the house to myself until 11 pm. It's nice, no one to bother me and all.

I want time!

Is it too much to ask for another hour of computer access? I love that we have a time limit and all, it's just I'm really stressed and I want some more time to do what I love most-- writing with the help of background Youtube music.
And is it too much to ask for some privacy? My thoughts and dreams are my own, I don't need an interrogation.

Please grant me that.

The Way She Feels

She felt confident as she went onto the field to perform. Now, as she went through the routine, she began to question her confidence. Barely the end of the show, she was out of breath and shaking from exhaustion. The judge didn't help her pridicament, closing in on her and following her with his eyes, speaking into his recorder.
At the end of the show, she was hot, dripping sweat, and exhausted. She knew they had not done well, as did the rest of her team. But they pushed it all behind them and sat in the stands as another and final team showed up for the competition. Then, the awards.
"In third place..." Rang the annoucer's voice as they were mentioned for every award. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief. Third place? He's going to be majorly ticked... She thought, though unallowed to speak while at attention for award presentation.
"Be proud of who you are." One upperclassman advised.
"It's not so bad, really." Another encouraged. Still, everyone was in a foul mood, especially after the rain had soaked them thoroughly. Third place all around; never in their history had they ever received third place in anything...


She sits on the bus now, still in uniform and on the way home. The bus is dark and cold; another steady rain is falling down. No one is joking now, like they did on the bus ride to the competition. Everyone has received a depressed and angry disposition. They talk constantly about last year, and what all the did wrong, and how much they hated a certain member of the team. No longer were they reciting the music they had learned, but instead were singing the music of despair.
Plip. A drop of rain had entered the bus, and was splattering onto her head. Plip, plip.
"Size does matter!" Someone mentioned. "When have you seen a Class A rank first overall?"
"And she was always out of step, too!" Another remarked angrily, right beside her. "Last year we were much better..."
Keep your snide comments to yourself! And stop talking about 'last year,' it's here and now, not past. She wanted to scream, but sorrow and anger clung to her throat. She would not scream; all she wanted to do was lie in bed and think of nothing but peaceful slumber.
Plip, plip. A flashing light from the bus in front, a strobe light, made all the trees whizzing by look like slow motion. An eerie effect. Plip, plip.
I hate that stupid, stupid raindrop, the talk of last year and how bad we did, and I hate that strobe light! She screamed in her mind. She sat, gloomily, in her seat the remainder of the bus ride. Now there's only tomorrow... and I have to work on homework and then Monday. He'll yell at us for sure...