Trash Talking

Well this is a bunch of garbage—literally. The school is having this big recycling drive. Unfortunately, it has gotten too big. For weeks they’ve been promoting the hell out of this thing. It seems like every hour on the hour, one of the administrators has gotten on the PA with corny slogans and promises of prizes to get kids to bring paper to be weighed and recycled.

Turn that old newspaper into movie passes.

Go green and get green.

What’s black and white and read all over? A limited edition ipod!

Anyway, the scale that they were using has broken, so they want us to keep the paper in our classrooms until a replacement scale comes. Let me tell you—those announcements worked because I’ve got piles and piles all over the place. And it comes off kind of creepy. I’m a few jars filled with animal parts away from my room liking like the lair of a freakin’ serial killer.

I know I’ve said this before, but this just confirms my suspicion that administration gets some black ops training. This has to be some sort of torture that they’re conducting. It’s like they’re trying to mess with my senses by given me a dreadful teaching environment. I’ve got to keep an eye on the piles at all times, in case of a paper avalanche or something. The next thing you know they’ll cut the power and blast Twisted Sister into my room.