guidance counselors

i hate this man, i really do. our guidance counselor is insulting. oh boy, the ninth graders get a g.c. of their very own! how wonderful for them! or, you know, not.

i had never even met the g.c. until halfway through spanish this morning. suddenly, bernat announces that we freshmen must proceed to the counselor's office for a mandatory meeting. when we get there, g.c. cramps us into a teeny tiny room and tells us to "spread out." then he tells us that we are all failing.

oh, what was that sound? yeah, that's be hell freezing over. out of all of the classes i have, i am certainly not failing in spanish. so of course, i pointed this out to him. eventually, it turned into, "oh, well those of you doing well in the class, give your numbers to the stupid people and let them copy your notes." um, excuse me? "i'm not allowed to give out my number," is the excuse i used to avoid those who do not even pay attention in class. call me a goody goody all you like, i'm not about to let some jackass who only does half of the work copy what i did on my own. kelsie gave them her cell number. crazy.

my second meeting occured during english. by this time, my anger had cooled, and i was no longer entirely balistic about the aforementioned meeting. but no, he had to prove his jackassness. "let's start taking notes about...taking notes." he actually singled me out and said, "i saw you this morning, right?" *affirmative nod from myself.* "aren't you the one getting a 54 in spanish?" *the rest of the class looks in amazement and begins to talk excitedly..hillary is failing!* "uh, no, i'm the one getting a 97." "oh, well, you should give out your number to the rest of the class so you can help them understand what the teacher is saying." * steam pouring out of the morgan-girl's ears*. "no, thanks."

he is a whore, and i hate him, so there.