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    RJ and Rosa`s posts on their bat incidents got me thinking about school stories.Here`s some from me:
    There was this guy in grade 4 that used to bug me in grade 5;at recess one day he was calling me names and I punched him,lightly,like I was joking with him,I was eating a jam donut,was`nt looking to fight with him,I was busy eating!
    He started crying his eyes out,this guy thought he was tough,yeah right!I hit him so lightly,made no sense to me,everyone starts coming up to me and saying "nice shot";it was`nt a shot at all!then I hear he has a bloody nose and the teacher wants to talk to me,so I explained it to her,did`nt get sent to the office.
    What I was wondering,was the "blood" the jam from the donut?

    Another good tale was my school bus driver,had to go like 10 miles to school because I lived out in the sticks,he was known to be an alcoholic;not someone you want to drive 10 miles to school with!you could never understand what the guy was even saying!just mumbles.When the kids got too noisy in the winter he would turn up the heat,we all had winter jackets on so we`d be sweating to death,that was no fun.Sometimes we get another driver,like this one guy named Rocky,he was cool,used to tell jokes and play the radio,problably a ploy to get everyone to shut up.

    Anyone got any school stories to add?



    When I was in high school I was friends with this boy, who was one of the popular, rich preppy kids. We didn’t hang out in school but talked on the phone a lot. We weren’t dating or anything, just good friends.

    One time we went to the movies, and he told me not to tell anyone (probably because he would have been "demoted" socially). I was angry and upset, so when Monday rolled around, I went straight to the most gossipy girl in school, who happened to be one of his preppy friends. I told her, "yeah, so I went to the movies with Brad this weekend". Everyone knew by lunchtime. Heh heh heh.


    K7 Rides Again

    </font><blockquote><font>quote:</font><hr><font>Originally posted by Salamiguy:
    <strong>When the kids got too noisy in the winter he would turn up the heat,we all had winter jackets on so we`d be sweating to death,that was no fun.
    </strong></font><hr></blockquote><font>You had heat on your bus? Mine never did. In fact, it was so called on winter mornings, that if someone broke wind, we’d all huddle around that person for heat like bums around a 55-gallon drum fire!

    Sorry ’bout the off color humor, but this is like a "7 years and still running" joke at my house.



    Good story Rosa;I can understand in your profile why you said "heckling the rich".There was`nt too many rich kids at my school but preppy kids,yep!alot of redneck kids too.
    Thought up some more stories:there was this one guy in grade 7 who I had to sit with because the teacher had a seating plan,the guy was an insane genius type,child like but really smart,crosseyed and very nerdy,the type that gets picked on alot and the type that would take a gun and shoot everybody.He used to talk like a robot and make funny sounds like a 4 year old but when it came to schoolwork he had 90`s on everything.he used to take temper tantrums and fight with the teachers and then cry his eyes out;I felt sorry for him that he`d always be a target but he was so unpredictable.
    Eventually he was moved to another seat and I got to sit next to a girl instead,that was cool,talked to her alot and got the guts to ask her to a dance,she accepted because the guy she liked would`nt go out with her;eventually her friends kept talking to this guy he agreed to go to the dance with her leaving me out of luck,but I knew she was crazy about this guy so I let her go with him.



    This Essay is reel long, but I got a 98% on it, and it’s all true

    The Corner
    Around my Freshman year of high school, my old friends who kept me company throughout grade school began to edge away from me. I haven‘t found a definite answer yet, but it probably had something to do with the fact that I was not joining them in the honors classes. Indeed, I have always been the stupid one in any group. The child development people actually suggested I wait another year before I entered preschool. My parents ignored them. “You just need to apply yourself,â€



    I liked it too Malc.



    I went to Catholic school, it was a painful experience in a number of ways. The nuns were big meanies, they actually hit my sisters hand to try and stop her from writing with her left. They were so rigid, I got sent to the principle for a lecture because I drew a pic of eve smiling as she was leaving the garden of eden…hey I like apples ; )

    Anyways I was close to finishing grade eight, it had snowed a lot and there was a huge pile of soft powdery snow under the 2nd floor window. Few of us got brave and jumped out into the snow from the 2nd floor classroom window. We were having a great time until this really big meanie nun came in when I was leaning out ready to jump. She grabbed me, screeching away…. I figured I was going to get pulled back in, I swear she pushed me out the window rather than pulling me back…not very catholic of her ; )

    Liked the story as well Malcom




    I got switched from left hand to right hand in primary by the teacher because she did`nt want left handed kids in her class,she did`nt hit my hand,just took the pencil out of my left hand and put it in my right;screwed up my writing forever,I have the worst handwriting there is.



    When I was a senior I was editor of the school newspaper. The core staff was made up entirely of social misfits, and I met some of my best, smartest friends that year.

    As much fun as we had working on it, I caused a lot of heat writing articles that criticized our school system. One of the people who hated me was the newspaper advisor, Mrs. Murdock. She’d only appointed me editor because no one else was interested, and she never really liked me to begin with. She was one of these teachers who tried too hard to socialize with the students, and was forever gossiping with/about them. Oh yeah, she was also manic-depressive and alcoholic. The newspaper was her pathetic little thing that she controlled, and she would get upset and cry when we strayed too much from the sports-articles-and-homecoming-reports format.

    Anyway, sometimes my friends & I would stay at school late working on the paper; we even started ordering pizzas and having them sent up to the school. Mrs. Murdock had this locked cabinet where she kept her prized possession of prom glasses, you know, the goblets that you get as a souvenir at the prom? And no one was allowed to touch them. But we jimmied the lock and would drink soda out of them with our pizzas, then carefully clean them and put them back.

    It was our silent fuck-you to this miserable woman who once told us "the newspaper is not an outlet for your creativity".



    Not only was your story vivid and representative of a lot of folks’ social experiences, but you are a damn good writer. Keep it going.

    A short burst here:

    1. I turned in a magazine from the library on time once (and for once). All of a sudden, I am called over the loudspeaker in class to report back to the book joint days later. The library guy didn’t even bother to look when I told him it was turned in until I got indignant and told him this was fucked. All of a sudden he looked for the book and found it, after sending me to the principal to get suspended. I went back to class instead also they had to summons me again. he he. bastards.

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