I felt the lightening, And I waited on the thunder...

ShitShitShit.

As aforementioned in a previous post, I am having an issue with a teacher. Well, it's gone now, but I still do have this teacher. Now, I am used to not getting picked with my hand up; I always have it up in classes with an english or a history base. Those are the environments where I flourish, we have been over this. I don't know how I know all the crap I know, but I do, and I love to give answers.

However. This teacher has been so SICKENINGLY NICE TO ME ITS AWFUL. I always get picked everytime I have a thought to speak, and it's always followed with a "Good job, Sinead" or an "Oh yes, Excellent Sinead". Why. Why me? Ofcourse, I look over to see Emma smirking at me, or Nikki laughing with her head in her textbook, and I die a little more inside. I am not a suckup. Infact, I am famous for not getting along well with teachers! He acts as though he is afraid to offend me. And that makes me feel sick. It wasn't my intention to scare him into submission for the rest of the semester by bringing the residential schools issue to light. Fuck. I just wanted him to ACTUALLY teach about it instead of glossing and moving on.

I don't want him to kiss my ass for the rest of the semester out of fear for making me angry or something equally idiotic, but the way he is treating me now is driving me CRAZY. I almost in a way feel bad for him acting like that, like a part of me almost wishes I had never addressed the residential schools affair to begin with. He's going to think i'm some sort of psycho-sensitive crybaby for the rest of the semester, and to pay everytime I put up my hand i'm going to get the Good Jobs and the Excellents!

I know i'm smart, you don't need to tell me. Hah.

Fuck, though, anyways. SIGH.

Sinead