How to fail a class

Monday. A new week. Fresh start. You don’t wait until a New Year for change because a new week is just as perfect for life reforms.

First period chemistry. You walk in. Today is acid base titrations. You were reminded how notoriously hard this lesson was going to be last Friday, and you were happy because it coincided with your resolution to start paying attention in class. You also promised this last Monday but nope. This week you can feel it. It’s the week you will learn.

You pull out your chair, a pen, and your barely used notebook. That notebook was going to get worn out, you make a mental promise.

A Brønsted acid is a proton donor. Brønsted. Hm, that sounds outlandish. Northern European sounding. Europe was a nice place. You went there last summer to France. France wasn’t a life altering experience except now you were overusing terms such as touché. Touché. You’re pretty sure you met someone with the last name Touché once. Some people have very weird last names.

You remember you’re in chemistry right now and you snap back to reality. There’s only a few notes on the board so you relax a little. You weren’t doing so bad, see, you knew you could pay attention. You scribble intently as the teacher drones on about Lewis dots, which you were pretty sure was last chapter. Lewis was a cool last name. It’s interesting how some people have common last names as their first name like…Lewis Carroll. He wrote Alice in Wonderland right? You can barely recall watching the Disney version years ago. Maybe Alice wouldn’t have grown so quickly if the cake was broccoli. Because broccoli has fiber and fiber’s supposed to slow down digestion and stop a rush of sugar from making your insulin levels go crazy by spiking your blood sugar levels. That’s why fruit didn’t make you fat. Maybe crazy shrinking potions worked the same way. At least that’s what the health textbook that you vaguely remember reading said. It was pretty boring. Most of it just warned you the dangers of drugs. Actually, that makes sense. Alice was probably high. A lot of people smoked at school. You accidentally walked past a huddle of people who smelled distinctly like weed last Tuesday night behind Starbucks. Starbucks was where the basic white girls staked as their territory for their after school hangout location and purveyor of sickly sweet caramel frappuccinos.  Basic. Arrhenius’ theory that all bases had OH- was too simple and thus incorrect. OH-. Oh. Shit. You are in chemistry.

You snap out of your daydream just moments before the bell releases a piercing scream of freedom through the quiet discussions of how to do problem four on today’s homework. In a moment of panic you snap a picture of the board hoping you can copy whatever notes you can get.

It isn’t until you get home and you can’t find the picture of the notes that you realize the teacher finished the lecture halfway through class and that picture you hastily took of the board was a picture of her son’s baseball game.

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