(I’m in year 12, and I’m walking down the hall to the computer lab. I see a girl that I’ve spoken to once about our favourite show at the time. Two boys are picking on her, making horse noises because she has big lips. I also have big lips and hated them when I was young because I was always made fun of.)

Boy #1: *makes a braying noise* “Hey, horsey. Where ya goin?”

Boy #2: *brays* “Had lunch yet? I think I saw some hay out the back.”

(The girl starts to look upset, and I walk over to them.)

Me: “Oh, my god. Is that the best you can come up with?” *turning to the girl* “How many times have you heard that? You think they’d be able to think of something even slightly original.”

(The girl laughs and the boys start making fun of me.)

Boy #2: “Oh look, another horse. Geez, I thought this school was for humans.”

(Both boys laugh.)

Me: “So did I, but apparently they let pigs in, so why not horses?”

(I grab the girl’s arm and we walk away to the computer lab leaving the boys there looking dumbfounded for a response. She and I have been friends now for about 15 years!)

(One of my best friends and I are pretty friendly and easy going but weren’t always so. We’ve just come out of a bullying seminar and are talking about it when my friend suddenly goes quiet.)

Friend: “Hey, babe?”

Me: “What’s up?”

Friend: “Do you remember in primary school, whenever they had those bullying talks we thought they were such bull ‘cause no-one ever really got bullied?”

Me: “Sort of, yeah. Why?”

Friend: “I just realised that the season we thought no-one got bullied was because we were the bullies!”

Me: “… Oh, my god. We actually were! I feel terrible now!”

Friend: “It actually makes sense why people keep remembering me as the girl who used to hate them!”

(It’s been over five years since then and we still feel bad about it.)

(First period has not even started, and we have had to leave the school because someone smelled smoke and they fear there is a fire. No one knows anything at the time. I am out in the parking lot with a friend.)

Me: “So, does anyone know what the h*** is going on?”

Friend #1: “I don’t know. There might be a fire. I can hear the sirens.”

Friend #2: “I heard that there might be a fire in the music wing.”

Me: “Wait! Did you just say music wing?”

Friend #2: “Yeah, why?”

Me: “OH MY GOD! MY FLUTE IS IN THE BAND ROOM AND THE BAND ROOM COULD BE ON FIRE!”

(At this point, I start to freak out and pace around the parking lot.)

Friend #3: *grabs me* “Calm down. Your flute is going to be okay.”

Me: “You three are not in band! You don’t know what my flute means to me!”

Friend #4: “I played flute once. I know what it is like. It is your baby. It is going to be okay.”

Me: “But it could be destroyed!”

Friend #4: *pats me* “Shh! It’s okay.”

(After a few more minutes of me freaking out and my friends trying to calm me down, we are able to go back in. I run ahead of my friends to the band room. There was no fire, so my flute was safe, but that day, every band member at my school almost had a heart attack.)

(We’re learning about Greek mythology in English class before reading Homer’s ‘Odyssey.’)

Teacher: “So, that’s why Hephaestus built a magical chair to trap his unfaithful wife, Aphrodite.”

Student #1: “What?! That’s not right! She should be able to sleep around if she wants to!”

Teacher: “Well, let’s think about this for a moment—”

Student #1: “But no, seriously, Mrs. [Name]. If you were cheatin’ and your husband tied you to a chair and wouldn’t let you leave the house, wouldn’t you be mad?!”

(At this point, the teacher is frustrated at being interrupted so many times.)

Teacher: “No! No, I wouldn’t. The way I figure it, if I couldn’t keep it in my pants, then that would be a pretty fair punishment.”

(The teacher suddenly grows pale as she realizes what she just said.)

Student #2: “… That just happened.”

Teacher: *clicks to next slide* “Moving right along!”

(I’m an avid reader and am very well known by the librarians in my school library. One day, after spending nearly ten minutes searching, I am unable to find the book I want. I go up to the front desk and ask for help.)

Librarian: “Hi [My Name]! Can I help you?”

Me: “Yeah. I’m looking for The Silmarillion and can’t seem to find it. Would you mind checking the computer system to see if it’s already taken out?”

Librarian: “Sure. Just tell me how to spell it.”

(I give her the spelling and she looks it up. I didn’t expect her to recognize the book or know how the title is spelled as it is not as well known as the author’s other works. However, her next comment catches me off guard.)

Librarian: *looking at computer* “Here it is; The Samarila.’ Oh look, this was written by the same guy that wrote the Fellowship series!”

Me: “I believe you mean The Silmarillion and The Lord Of The Rings, which is, in fact, a single book. It was published in three volumes.”

Librarian: “Whatever. It says it’s by J. R. R. Token.”

Me: “Tolkien.”

(After she locates the book, which has been misplaced, she checks it out for me.)

Librarian: “Bye! I hope you enjoy reading The Simerelli!”

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