I guess I was just in denial. As the chains of real life dragged winter break to its inevitable demise, there I was in the same awful boat of realization. Heels dug deeply into the ground, forging trenches in the dirt behind them, I desperately avoided the routine and responsibility that loomed beyond the cliff edge. But as the X’s built up on the calendar, the chains became stronger and stronger. Finally, I gave in.
When I woke up from my descent off Reality Cliff on the third of January, a hazy fog surrounded me. During winter break, I consistently woke up at noon; here I was, six hours earlier, attempting to not only function, but to get ready for school. The shower did little to rinse off my morning coma, and somehow I ended up in my car. All of the sudden, the first real thought of the morning shattered through my mind, waking me up.
“What the heck is my schedule?”
Emphasis on the heck. While I was busy staying up until the wee hours of the morning or driving through Christmas lights displays, I had completely forgotten the important fact that my class schedule had gotten a bit of a makeover. So for the second half of my drive and the beginning part of my first hour — I remembered that my first hour didn’t change, luckily — I was searching for the dang thing. My frantic attempt was unsuccessful, but luckily Mr. McCoy swooped in with a brand spanking new copy of the last schedule this school will ever give me.
The school’s somewhat recent decision to change up (or screw up, depending on who you talk to) kids’ schedules can be good or bad. Some students only receive minimal changes like first and second period switching, while others get bulldozed and rebuilt from the ground up. The lucky ones have their schedules passed over completely, with not a single change for the second half of their year. Somehow, I don’t fall into any of those categories.
In my case, they didn’t necessarily demolish it, and they didn’t necessarily neglect it either … the just steamrolled it. While the changes weren’t very numerous, they managed to somehow stretch my day out and make it 25 hours long.
The change they made looked simple and insignificant, those devious little devils. They simply took my lunch, which was 4A, and switched it to 5B, the last lunch of the day. “Not too bad!” I remember saying when I saw it on paper, oblivious to the level of wackness that came with this change. Five classes sit in the way of my lunch now, as opposed to the three that used to. My body still hasn’t realized this.
By fourth hour, my tumbly is a-rumbling so hard it could put Winnie the Pooh’s to shame. The rumbling gets louder and louder, and soon it starts sounding more and more like a Jurassic Park sound effect. By fifth hour, it can speak full sentences, yelling at the bell to ring. The clocks seem to stand still, and the trusty “take a nap, wake up and time has passed” technique only makes time move slower. When that moment finally comes, it feels like an eternity as my feeble, deprived body crawls the final stretch of hallway with my fellow 5B’ers. Mama’s home cookin’ has never tasted sweeter.
I seem to recall another time when I had 5B lunch, either freshman or sophomore year, and the day moved along just fine. Thing is, back then I wasn’t sick. No, not “sick” in the sense that those fandangled kids use it, and not legitimately ill, either. I’m sick with a virus, and it rhymes with “Thenioritis.”
So as winter break moves further and further away in the rearview mirror, there are a couple things to look forward to: spring break and newspaper. My schedule may have been changed for the worse, but I guess I should just look at the bright side: it might somehow make Sodexo food taste good.
See you next week, bud.
Did you schedule take a turn for the worse? Have any food? E-mail me at [email protected] or tweet me @Pagano13.
