Last Week, Today

The seniors didn't have to return to the school as of last week, but the rest of us had finals to take or exempt. My school's final exams began last Friday because Memorial Day had taken the place where exams usually start.

Scheduling

Speaking of exams starting, the final exam schedule for my school district had a very memorable formula: 1st and 8th, 2nd and 7th, 3rd and 6th, 4th and 5th. For my high school, at least, the schedule is screwed up beyond belief. It goes like this: 1, 5; 2, 3; 7, 4; and 8, 6. That's not even remotely intuitive. I can't even make up a song for that sequence of numbers! I won't complain that much, though; all days with final exams were early releases (1:00 PM).

Since my district lets students in secondary education choose to exempt their exams if their grade is high enough and if their absence count was low enough, everyone here knows that the last week is essentially a week of blow-off classes, but it's even more extreme.

Considerations

Let's just think of some discussion over exempting exams. Say I'm a good student (which this year would suggest otherwise); if my average is a 93/100 for a class without taking the final, due to statistical variation, there's a high probability that the exam, perhaps scoring even an 87/100 would bring my grade down to a 91.2 even though it's only 30% of the semester grade. This brings everyone to the realization that given the choice, one should not take the final for even a possible two point increase. In ninth grade, I took an exam to try to improve my (I think) world geography grade. It brought my final average down two points.

Personal Performance

Speaking of grades, I'm going to be honest: they were abysmal for my taste this year. I managed to obtain three B's for quarterly grades this year. For goodness sake, one of them (an 89) was in my honors chemistry class in Q1; another (an 87) was in AP World History in Q3; another (an 88) was in my honors precalculus class in Q3; and the most abysmal (an 82/83/84) in honors English. That grade makes me afraid of AP English, but I know that my reluctance to turn assignments in on time contributed to that.

However, don't mistake the concern for I don't see grades as a validation of my intelligence or future success in life or anything that Einstein's and Feynman's lives can disprove. I see my grades as my ability to make a plan, stick to the plan, and always deliver. Sure, some philosophies suggest not caring about what you're forced to do. (Communism unintentionally teaches that.)

Nothing matters, however, since none of my average are below an A- (90). Yes, it's a dull silver lining, but I'm making focusing on what defines me a sample person (extracurricular activities like programming) instead of mere academics as a priority.

I've had to accept the reality that it will be incredibly difficult or downright impossible for me to be valedictorian. Although, I think I'll be okay with that. I mean, who cares about speaking in front of a crowd of people that have fought with you and know you and are ruled by you for the past four years? Who cares about actually having a voice for an audience that could remember what you say for the rest of their lives? Who cares about being a leader to break the norm of high shcool graduation speeches spoken by basic white girls that will contribute no value to the workforce in a decade? Who freaking cares about not having to sit in the bloody pit of your peers that couldn't beat the people that you'll be ruling over one day? For the love of God, who cares about getting validation for all the times they wouldn't listen?

Gosh darn it, I am not done here. I don't​ care that college is going to be more difficult and American high school is just goof off time for the people that never achieve anything in life. Would you like to know why I'm determined to go up to the top 10 next school year? Winston Churchill, that's why: He once told the British to never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense. i guess I'm British for the next year and a half.

Some may say it's good sense to give in when facing the reality that number two in my class had a 95 unweighted average for his classes last year while I'm three (possibly four) points lower than him now. Some say it good sense to actually have a plan before you engage in some academic I'm not those people. I'll coming for ranks 10–20 next year and number one the year after that.

A timeline of blow-offs

To lighten up the mood, I think I'll discuss how my school spent it's last week of the 2016–2017 school year.

Thursday

Thursday mostly involved the start of preparation for the annual end-of-year blow-off week otherwise known as final exam week in some circles.

I learned clarified solidified the definition of a derivative in pre-calculus class. I say solidified because I've been hovering over calculus for a while, watching the likes of 3Blue1Brown's Essence of Calculus series and completing the quizzes from Khan Academy. Of course, today nobody cared to even learning what a the definition of a derivative is; those are the people taking AP Calculus AB. We don't talk about those not taking AP Calculus BC.

There's some food from last period

In physics, our teacher's seventh period class decided to put together a potluck. Of course, probably concerned with the time, they left some of their food in the back of the room.

aaaaand it's gone.

Being bored on the last period of the last normal day of the year, I decided to clean the food that some of us took advantage of. I didn't get any thanks, but that's just how these things go. In the corner, much of the class was involved in a game of "Spy," whatever that is. I just find it funny I won't be back in that classroom until the next Thursday.

Friday

To begin finals week, I go to my world history teacher to give a presentation on the collapse of the Roman Empire. While almost everyone else chose mundane subjects like the history of basketball and the history of Chic-fil-A, I decided to tackle the most relevant issue of today by pointing at a historically important event of yesterday. The project consisted of an in-class presentation and a creative portion that ties it together. Apparently, the presentation itself could've been the creative portion, but I wanted to make a progressive web app for the creative portion. I ended up hosting it on Firebase Hosting and using Polymer 2.0 to create it in a week. Unfortunately, due to my frustration with package managers and versioning, I wasn't able to get as much done as I wanted. However, the result aided my team's presentation sufficiently. 

What I find amusing is that this grade isn't even a final; the AP Test allowed us to exempt the final, and our teacher needed another summative (test) grade for the grade book. I still treated this assignment like it was a final grade, though.

In my fifth period English class, some teachers decided to move non-testers into separate rooms so they didn't disturb the non-exempt. I'm reluctant to go into the teacher's crazy room next door, but I quickly change my mind as I realize a startling alternative. I yell "Me!" in vain as my teacher English teacher condemns me to the room with the freshmen. I unwillingly march across the way to a foul-smelling uncharacteristic portable with uncaring exam-exempt freshmen. Football​ players (specifically the ones that don't care about school) sit in the corner with the three boys that can't stop snickering about their constant, annoying jokes involving sexual innuendos including, but not limited to, moaning, "that's what she said" jokes, and motions I'm not at liberty to discuss.

After putting up with those fidget spinner-spinning heathens, I move to an adjacent corner. I didn't expect a power outlet, but a hidden one reveals itself to my power adapter. I plug my phone in and then begin looking at MIT meal plans. Apparently, mileage may vary quite a bit. but I read from a student that the Masseh (Mass-ay?) dining facility is the least terrible in terms of food quality. I'm a bit distraught that all freshmen have to be on the Any-19 meal plan, but I guess that's how school goes: from lowly freshman to privileged senior back to lowly freshman.

Soon, all the exam-takers are finished, so my English teacher calls us back to her room. She puts on an episode of Firefly, a series about space smugglers I've never heard about before. Of course, there's a girl with a freaking MacBook Pro (2014, I think) in the corner, drawing who knows what, and all the girls are on their phones Snapchatting. I'm bored, so I stare at the episode playing on the board. I don't much idea what's going on, but the bell rings, and I'm off to lunch.

The (possibly) last Burger Friday

Tuesday

We (the students of our teacher's second period level two engineering class) launch half a dozen water bottle rockets today, but we all know we're not going to be engineers after two years with our teacher. 

Everything is rushed as some students still have AutoCAD certification exams to complete (excluding me, the only kid that managed to pass first try by one question). We fill out some un-redeeming paperwork to get an exam grade (since I didn't exempt this class), but at least we watch two rockets zoom more than two stories into the sky.

Long story short: I'm probably not too fit to be a rocket scientist, but at least I won't have to suffer in engineering doing valueless projects. I doubt this case is my fault; it's a shame the STEM department lead can't actually teach valuable science, technology, engineering (her supposed specialty), or mathematics.
I just feel bad for all the freshmen that will be turned away from a STEM field because of one of two engineering teachers at the school. I think the other one, the one that does robotics, is half an order of magnitude better. That's why I'm taking robotics class with that teacher next year and AP Computer Science (finally) with the god-emperor teacher himself, Mr. Burton.

Wednesday

The bell rings at 8:29 AM. Passing I walk into the west side of the school to sit in a sophomore chemistry class for two hours. Because teachers aren't allowed to show movies (and, more importantly, half the class had to take the exam), everyone exempt had to either play with their phones or stare at the walls. I do the latter until I get bored, and then I do the former until the battery reaches a danger zone. (Thanks, Nexus 6P early shutdown bug).

They don't even have the same handles.

Not much occurs after everyone says their goodbyes and leaves for fourth period. Well, not much occurs for me. Since I don't have a ride home, I am forced to stay in the indoor courtyard in a spot very nostalgic for me as a freshman. I've eaten all my freshmen lunches here; I've watched Google I/O 2016 here; I've enjoyed sitting here. Today, I do not enjoy sitting here; I'll be in this spot for nearly three hours. I do notice a funny setup, though: I haven't noticed the fact the restroom door handles don't match.

The time is 12:25 PM. I've already gotten my lunch in preparation for the oncoming slaughter of students. Fifteen minutes later, some people I don't really know or care about attempt to bug me, but I stand my ground while eating my lunch.

As I reach the bus, I realize there's only a day of school left. I give a "Good afternoon" to the driver, and then I sit right behind him, checking Google Calendar so I can add some goals for the summer.

Thursday

The late bell rings, and the back of the room is filled with assorted food and drinks. Eighth period decided to throw a potluck, but it's 8:40 AM, and I'm not hungry. After glancing around the room and talking to my right-hand man (who sits to my left), our lovable physics teacher began a speech. Of course, he graciously tells us all how it's been a fun year, and he wishes us a safe summer.

After the speech, everyone (except me) grabs food from the back, and they begin eating breakrunch (breakfast + brunch).

I forget who brought it up, but before a third of the class knew it, we spent nearly half an hour talking about my clothing. (I usually wear the rainbow in polo shirt form every single week; I start with red on Monday, don't use indigo, and wear white on Sundays.) Mr. Bear Facts in the back of the room begins posing questions about exceptions to my rule. I enjoy healthy criticism, especially towards a topic as fundamental as my attire. He asks what occurs if I don't have my laundry done by the time the week starts. 

A girl on my left notes that since I wear white on Sundays, my clothes will already be washed on Saturday. I add the fact I have backup shirts thoroughly answering that question. Of course, he continues by asking what happens if my grandmother gives me some garment to wear. I respond by saying I don't wear it at all, but they demand more; I say that I wear the given garment around her, but switch to standard attire as quickly as possible.

The girl wonders what I wear if I'm at the beach, thinking she stumped me. I deliberate as the situation has never come up, but I resolve the comment by saying I go topless. I'm a guy, so that's pretty socially acceptable (even though I'm extremely reluctant to do so). I turn to the board, and she's already begun writing my schedule on the board, titled "Willies [sic] Clothes Schedule"

To me, it appears they are genuinely interested in this peculiar but eccentric sophomore. Is this admiration? I wish I know. Two girls were more interested than I would've expected.

The Standard Attire schedule, v1.0.0

I then spend my next half hour rethinking and reformatting the schedule and priority rules for my attire, now formally designated the "Standard Attire," a system of clothing that aims to reduce the amount of useless decisions made when choosing clothing in the morning.

Later on, I retire to the school yearbook as everyone surrounds one open to senior quotes. One man quotes Adolf Hitler. I admire his balls, and the quote is pretty agreeable (in my mind) without Hitler's name, but just so we're clear: I do not admire Adolf Hitler. 

After the announcements, the bell rings. I grab a Styrofoam cup and pour some Sprite into it. The muffins were nice, but I'm thirsty. Everyone expect our teacher leaves the room, and he gives me a solid "see you next year, Willie" as I finish chugging the cup and replying to him.

My mind begins playing "The Room Where It Happens" as I slug through the crowded hallways. Luckily, I don't pass two certain someones that hate my guts, so I arrive in my last class for the year, pre-calculus. I spend my first hour staring at the ceiling, walls, and people while thinking thoughts about the upcoming summer.

After the second hour, I take out my phone and ponder about my four year plan for high school. My courses are essentially locked in for next year, but there's still wiggle room for senior year. I soon realize that I haven't updated my blog in weeks. I sit, writing this behemoth of a blog post as I glance at the clock and notice the time. My mind whispers "40 minutes." I then think, "wait, it's only five minutes left for the juniors that have a ride home. I die a little bit inside as I enviously stare at the privileged juniors around me.

While the juniors in pre-calculus go to their cars to drive home, I race to the cafeteria to grab my lunch and secure my seat. I guess today is the last Burger Friday™.

I board my bus for the last time this school year, and I see the construction already beginning. Men in yellow construction vests buzz around the west side of the school; the fence for the old basketball court has been replaced with construction tape.

I pass by the construction trailer in front of the school and get one last look at the school's iconic awning in the front. The bus passes the intersection, and we are whisked away to our homes.