Growing up, we all regret some things that we have done. We wish they could be forgotten, that they had never happened. I know this one thing that I remember I am so happy that I still can. It was a good time in my life, before when I feel my down fall had begun. I was more happy in my younger days. I do have my sunshine some of these days, but I had very few clouds back in those days.
I feel that in high school, we were suppose to be learning what the real important factors in life were. However, though, I still to this day never find the need to use that Pythagorean theorem or even have any use for the aluminum and whatever bromine together might be in. But I know their basics.
There were the good times, there were the bad times. The friends that I made in those times had given me some of the best moments that I am so thankful for. If I still remember you to this day, feel that I love you. All that has happened to me in these past few years, all that has caused such forgetful measures in my life that enables me to remember one thing from twelve years ago, but makes me unable to recall another, this means that you were an important part of my life.
So picture this: senior year. I wake up every morning, dreading what I am suppose to have smashed into my face at 9 am every morning; math. Blah. I still to this day will never know why I had waited until my last year of high school to try and learn all what I still feel is useless to me in these days. I know, back when college was my next step and what I was still looking to be when I “grew up”, I thought I would need more knowledge of math and science. So graduating with only a ninth grade level was something I could not have. So I learned on. I luckily had who I still feel was one of my most favorite teachers to this day. I know my others were in the “higher level” of math; calculus, whatever that is, also had him. He was trying to cross them over to the other side, I believe.
He was crossing me over, though. Crossing me over to the “math is not such a bad thing” side. He was the type that helped the students when he knew they were having they’re problems. He was the type that made this subject fun, as boring as it is.
One other strong, important responsibility as adults we were learning was how to toilet paper houses. I believe when our parents were growing up, this was not a good thing. Big rolls were thrown up and over every branch, fence post, all around the cars in the driveway of all the people at school that you hated so much. For some reason, though, over the years, people began to do it to their friends. They would do this as a way to show love. This is how I feel, anyway. I felt that by doing this, we were out having a good time and we wouldn’t make this mess to anyone’s house that we knew would get into trouble.
So this was when our favorite teacher came into the picture. We had to show him in some way that he was teaching us the best out of all of the other staff. A basket of fruit would in no way do the job. Only this huge mess of appreciation would be able to do it.
So thankful he had a good sense of humor. I don’t recall which evening precisely this all took place, though I do know there were three cars of us, tons of rolls and a video camera that just to film the memories that we were all making. We drove out on a school night, of all nights, knowing that he would be awake, but still took the risk of being caught and threw those rolls after rolls all around his yard. We stuck messages in his grass with popsicle sticks, I believe, just to show how much we appreciated him. It was thankfully a clear night.
He also returned the joke on us; his wife “fell off a ladder” cleaning their mess, and she “called ” the school in a panic while we showed him our video. While he raced out of the room in a hurry, we just stared at each other, not sure what we were to do. He returned casually a moment later just to tell us he was kidding. I know to this day he is as excellent a principal as he was a teacher.