Meet the teacher day. The phrase is one most hated and avoided in my house.
Since I'm not an only child, we had to visit 3 different campuses for meet the teacher day. First off was Stephanie the kindergartner. Hers was easy because we only had to go to one classroom and meet one teacher. Oh the simplicity, and how I miss it dearly.
Then next was Kimberly the 7th grader. She had a whole list of classes to visit, and we stopped by each and every single one of the classes. I ran into one of my old teachers Coach Roberts. He's the bomb. When he was my teacher, we had this ongoing bit about secret unicorn assassins, and I would hide out in his room at random times from the unicorn assassins who had universal licences to kill. Fun times.
Then we had lunch at the local Chinese restaurant. Yums Chicken and Green beans. Delicious. It's such a tiny and quaint little place too.
Then it was my school that was left for last to tackle. Oh the stairs. My high school consists of many buildings, many rooms, and many stairs.
We divided my schedule by area, tackling the older part of the school first. I met my AP art teacher, and got to see her new room, and got talked to in Spanish by my new Spanish 2 teacher.
All I could answer in was "Que?!"
Then I met my new debate teacher. HE'S THE BOMB ALSO! First impressions mean everything, and of course my first impression of him was: This guy has bad timing.
He wasn't in his room when we came by, so of course I checked Theatre to see if he was in there, and I ended up having to get Mr.G, the theatre director to go find him in the bathroom. How wonderful. I hope he washed his hands before I shook them.
Overall, he's pretty cool, he's a LDer, like myself, and has the cool college cafe nerd suaveness going for him. Nice black framed glasses.... youngish... Mary Callendar, my big sister in debate who left me for college is going to need a picture to sample.
Overall, I'm happy with all my teachers, they seem like the bomb (how many times have I used this word?).
There was one thing that I thought was, for the lack of a better word, stupid. I was warned not to wear my "Why Kant you see that life is Pietzsche" shirt. WTF? It's a regular t-shirt with an intelligent little joke on it.
Apparently, since it refers to Nietzsche, who in himself is quite controversial, I can't wear it. Screw the "man" I'll wear it anyways. My shirt is a lot more appealing than the "gangsta" shirts floating around our society. If they have a problem with it, they'll have to come with a better reason for me not to wear it other than, "The old dead man on your shirt was once controversial, and even though most teens your age don't know who he is, we still think you shouldn't wear that because, by golly, he did write something that claimed God is dead!"
SCHOOL. MONDAY. EARLY. BLARGH. Oh well. It can't be that bad.