Imprisoned Into A Bad Class

(My grade seven class is known throughout the district as the worst one in collective memory. At the board office we’re known as ‘that class.’ However, we still have a curriculum to follow, including a Career And Personal Planning section that has us visiting various workplaces to get a feel for different jobs. This conversation occurs when my mom is asked to drive some of us to one of them.)

Teacher: “[Mom]! I’m glad I caught you while you’re here! We need some parents to help drive [My Name]’s class to the police station next Thursday. Can you help out?”

Mom: “Sure.” *takes the permission slip/driver consent form offered and starts filling it out* “So, the police station, huh? Are you going to need me for a round trip, or am I just dropping them off and leaving?”

Teacher: *laughs for a moment before getting herself back under control* “The official plan is round trip, but maybe I could ‘forget’ a few of the worst ones…”