Today we started school at the very reasonable hour of 10:45. According to the biological clocks of most students at this school, 10:45 really is the earliest that anything should ever begin, particularly anything that requires the input of them or their brain.

But not even the relaxed starting hour could coax most students back from the lingering haze of last night’s prom, which was by all accounts a smashing success.

I did not attend our Spring Promenade. In fact, I have never attended a “prom.” Why, you might ask, did not I, the bubbly, school-spirited, almost annoyingly enthused gentleman you see before you each day, attend his own school’s “rite” of Spring?

The answer, my friends, is simple: I was afraid of girls. While it is true that, as a youth, I hated school and everything that had to do with school, and I felt that the vast majority of my classmates were squares, phonies, and crumb-bums, it is also true that I would have liked nothing more than to attend one of these “lame” school functions in the company of a young lady who shared my sensibility and with whom I could share my “clever” mockery. But no, this was not possible, for, though I had targetted and assessed various young ladies for their ironic sensibilities and general sense of disgust with school and the crappy people there, I could never muster the courage to actually initiate the social interaction. I was scared of girls.

This, thankfully, was not the problem this year. See, at some point I stopped being afraid and started enjoying making a bloody fool of myself in front of people. I employed this newfound courage several times with totally disastrous results, and then once with great results, and now I am happily married to a girl who is pretty much legally obligated to go to prom with me. Yet, still…

Maybe next year I’ll figure it out. It is, of course, my fondest dream to rent a tuxedo with a flashily-contrasting cumberbund/bow-tie combo; to purchase a frilly corsage and carry it to my date in its plastic, crystalline casket; to pin said corsage onto the chastest part of my date’s bosom in front of the straining scrutiny of her paranoid parents; and, finally, to slow dance at arm’s length, while staring off into some indeterminate point of space, to the tunes of “Forever Young.” But for these pleasures I must wait at least one more year.

We did have class today, although it was reduced in size and scope. If you missed today, here’s what you need to do for 10 big monologue assignment points:

  • Copy your monologue onto a piece of paper, double-spaced
  • Mark the stressed words in each line (say it out loud various ways to figure out the most important words); use the stressed-unstressed marks we talked about in the lesson about iambic pentameter, and don’t forget that many of the most important words are the ones that the meter emphasizes already
  • Highlight every piece of major punctuation (commas, periods, colons, semicolons)
  • Highlight at least 5 words that either you don’t know what they mean, or you think the word has meaning beyond the definition you’re familiar with; write the list of words down below with their complete, dictionary definitions

That’s it. If you didn’t finish this today, we still have two days of CRT testing to go next week and the time available after testing each day should be more than enough to get the job done and get you well into the memorization.

Anyway, I’m going to go watch Pretty in Pink and dream about next year.


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