Don't change

I was tired of being the geek, the loner, the fat one. I wanted more than one friend. I wanted to be popular, pretty, sexy. So I got a makeover..


9. Making a statement


My first lesson was science. The previous year it had been my favourite class, with mad Mr Remison, and everyone had loved his strange dress sense (wellies, leggings with Speedos on top, a pink dress shirt and a singed white lab coat on one occasion) and his obsession with explosions.

This year, however, it was not the case. We had a new teacher, who looked about a hundred, dressed in a maroon ankle length skirt and a multi-coloured 1970s jumper. The moment I saw her I knew she wouldn't last long. Her grey hair was in two buns (one on each ear), and even from the middle row you could see the hairs on her upper lip. "Good morning class," she said in her shrill voice, "I am Ms Bomley. You will address me as that, and you must always say good morning to me. Let's start that practise now. Good morning class." "Good morning Miss Bomley," the class droned, and the teacher clicked her (probably fake considering how old she was) teeth. "Put more effort in it!" She shouted at us, and made us do it again. And again. And again. In the end we spend over 5 minutes doing the 'good morning' routine.

By then everyone was really bored, people had started talking to eachover, drawing in their planners and on the tables, etc etc. She handed out the books and the worksheets. It was from a book called 'Primary Resources for ages 6-11' and our worksheet was to write about basic photosynthesis. Also you had to label the diagram of a plant, to get the top level 5.

I stared at the paper, along with many other people. "If you can't even say good morning," Miss Bomley smirked, "then how can you do science?" Anger flooded through my veins at this. She thought we were stupid? All of us had got high levels last year, and it was the first morning of the school year. People were tired and jet lagged. She should cut us some slack. I remembered what the book had said, about popular people standing upfront what they believe in. Reluctantly I pushed back my chair and slowly stood up, everyone's eyes on my. Miss Bomley turned and faced me, and her steely eyes gazed into mine. "What," she quietly (but dangerously) said, "are you doing, Maya?"

"I am standing up," I replied, my voice gradually rising, "because of you. You disgust me, giving us work meant for a 7 year old. We are in Year 11, we are not 7." At this point many people nodded. This gave me some strength to continue. "In less than a year we are leaving school, and going out into the real world, we will need qualifications, and to get those qualifications we do exams. Those exams are next year, so we need to do everything we can to pass them. It is a hard stage in our lives, 7 weeks of tests, but it will be worth it to get good jobs. To get jobs we need A's and B's. If we get A's and B's we get jobs. To get good grades we need good teaching. Simple."

More people were nodding, and Miss Bomley's hairy lip curled into a sneer. "So buh-bye, I'm going. What is the point? There isn't one, if we aren't gonna get the teaching we need, and have to do stuff meant for little kids, we won't learn. We come to school to learn. So I'm outta here - bye Miss BUMley."

All through that I had been walking up to the door, so when I had finished I opened the door, walked out and slammed it. I could here the laughs inside, and people shouting out stuff to Miss Bumley. Ha, that name was gonna stick. I turned the corner in the corridor and guilt hit me. What had I done? I was near the back exit now, and my emotions overloaded. Tears threatening to fall, I walked out the gates, and went home. Hopefully tomorrow would go well...

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