Wish I’d thought of that

Helena drove us to school today. She’s sweet and wonderful and kind.  She’s also practically blind and on days like today when she’s in a hurry, she wears her glasses instead of contacts.  This would be fine if these weren’t the same glasses she’s been wearing since the fifth grade.

She hasn’t had an eye exam since then.

Things went ok. Mac insisted on sitting in the backseat so she could spread out and do her homework on the way and she kind of forgot to let me out of the car first before she leaned the seat forward, but Helena pried my face out of the dashboard.

Then we were off to first period.

It looked more like a bunch of zombies trying to get their last minute Fine Arts credit before graduation, but it’s not too bad.

Madame Hollebach let’s us have coffee or whatever as long as we are alert and listening when we are actually doing something.

I am not sure what Fine Art we are supposed to be studying, but I don’t care. I don’t have to make a concerted effort to avoid eye contact because Madame will yell if you are not focused on her.

I don’t know if she is the best teacher I have ever had or the worst.  She’s odd, and the first week of class she finished each sentence with

“That’s what Elsa says, no?”

No one had any idea who Elsa is and how do you answer a question that ends with “No”?

Madame is kind of vague and a lot weird. But I like the way she handles things.  Today she summoned me,

“You. Little person. Go into the office and bring Elsa a soft black pen.”

I am assuming she is Elsa.

I brought her a felt tip marker (I drew this conclusion on my own).

She then drew a mustache on anyone who asked her a what she considered to be a stupid question.

Wish I’d thought of that.

Madame has cool stuff in her office

Some days it just is

Not arty, just is

I have to stop driving to school. It’s getting really dangerous.  I am doing everything I can do to stay safe, like driving at about five miles slower than the posted speed limit, thus exposing myself to a gauntlet of rude gestures.  But I know that’s it a bad idea to avert your eyes too much when you’re operating a motor vehicle. Today wasn’t too bad, only two one fingered salutes and one shouted question about the air quality in urban areas. On the way to the building no less than FIVE freshman asked me about the cover story of People magazine. I thought that was odd because since when do fifteen years old read People anyway?

I was late getting to class and when I walked in, the teacher stared me right in the eye and asked me what I knew about the history of mascara,in a tone of voice that said the answer might hold the key to defusing the bomb before it destroyed the dream house.

She did not ask why I was late.

One of the few benefits of this ability is that there is rarely a follow up question.  The downside to that particular fact is that this has the potential to throw a wet blanket on the flames of any potential of love I might enjoy at this point in my life. (I don’t want to think about the future beyond the end of the school year because it will just make me sad.)

This is not going to be one of those stories with me turning out to be some surprise hottie disguised as a quirkfest in awkward shoes. I’m not even the plain girl who has the tastiest of guys crazy in love with her.  That just doesn’t happen, and even if does, my school is so low on the tasty scale, it’s practically Pritikin.

I’m just me.  Just Ann. No follow up question.

It sounds grim.

But it is what it is.