Random School - a work in progress!
I go to Random School. It's weird. And random. But I guess you figured that one out for yourself. It's Monday morning, and I think I can speak for most people when I say that I leave on auto-pilot. But, I didn't reach the doors as I usually did. I went smack-bang into the wall. Turns out, the headmaster had the school moved three feet to the left so he had a better view of the car park from his office.
My teacher, Mr Wacko, yes that is really his name, is the strangest person I know.
"Okay, class!" He bursts into the room. "Today, I've suddenly decided, we're going to do technology!"
"Yay!" The class shouts.
"We're going to make tiny, insignificant plastic baby ducks!"
"Yay!" The class shouted a little less enthusiastically.
"Then, in double science, we're gonna... gonna.... erm... BLOW STUFF UP! YEAH, THAT'S THE ONE!"
"Okay, sir, why are we doing that?" I pipe up, recieving many devil stares from my classmates. That just shows that the average school child likes to blow stuff up. We stumble into the unnocupied lab.
"Today, we're going to dissect something!" Wacko says proudly. "Squeemish ones over there," He points to the right, "And people who want to dissect, go there." He points to his left.
"What are we dissecting sir?" I ask.
"The dreaded... JELLY BABY!!!" Everyone laughs. "Now," Continues Mr Wacko, slicing open the Jelly Baby with a scalpel. "As you can see, inside this vicious monster is pure jelly!!!" After an hour more of this, science is finally over.
"It's home economics time!" He tries to make it sound exciting, and fails. "Actually, let's do it now!"
Everyone groans.
"OKAY! OUT TO THE PLAYGROUND! MUD PIE TIME!!!" He tries to stride out the door, but smacks into the glass of the closed door. He opens it and, a little sheepishly, continues. But, typically, there are no puddles.
"Ah..." Sir starts. "Okay... Anyone got any spit? Fire at Will!" Now, the phrase 'fire at will' can mean two things. It can mean: 'fire when you can, don't wait for order' or some poor old person called Will gets a dozen spit balls in the back of the head. In this situation, sir meant the second one.
Ewww... I felt the soggy spit balls hit home. Yeah, I'm Will!
By Immy :)
My teacher, Mr Wacko, yes that is really his name, is the strangest person I know.
"Okay, class!" He bursts into the room. "Today, I've suddenly decided, we're going to do technology!"
"Yay!" The class shouts.
"We're going to make tiny, insignificant plastic baby ducks!"
"Yay!" The class shouted a little less enthusiastically.
"Then, in double science, we're gonna... gonna.... erm... BLOW STUFF UP! YEAH, THAT'S THE ONE!"
"Okay, sir, why are we doing that?" I pipe up, recieving many devil stares from my classmates. That just shows that the average school child likes to blow stuff up. We stumble into the unnocupied lab.
"Today, we're going to dissect something!" Wacko says proudly. "Squeemish ones over there," He points to the right, "And people who want to dissect, go there." He points to his left.
"What are we dissecting sir?" I ask.
"The dreaded... JELLY BABY!!!" Everyone laughs. "Now," Continues Mr Wacko, slicing open the Jelly Baby with a scalpel. "As you can see, inside this vicious monster is pure jelly!!!" After an hour more of this, science is finally over.
"It's home economics time!" He tries to make it sound exciting, and fails. "Actually, let's do it now!"
Everyone groans.
"OKAY! OUT TO THE PLAYGROUND! MUD PIE TIME!!!" He tries to stride out the door, but smacks into the glass of the closed door. He opens it and, a little sheepishly, continues. But, typically, there are no puddles.
"Ah..." Sir starts. "Okay... Anyone got any spit? Fire at Will!" Now, the phrase 'fire at will' can mean two things. It can mean: 'fire when you can, don't wait for order' or some poor old person called Will gets a dozen spit balls in the back of the head. In this situation, sir meant the second one.
Ewww... I felt the soggy spit balls hit home. Yeah, I'm Will!
By Immy :)