An old substitute stood before our loud fifth grade class. Usually, we didn?t act this way but both of our teachers were gone, so everyone saw this chance for freedom.
?Sit down in your seats,? she barked. Since our regular teacher had never yelled at us, every child?s face illustrated the amazement to this new idea. Then she handed out what seemed to be a thousand papers, none of which stimulated our minds, especially me.
I sat there attempting to do some of the papers she had assigned. I wasn?t a bad child, nor did I want to be. I usually did my work as I was told to, but this day I was feeling unusually rebellious, almost as though a burst of energy had shot through my young undeveloped body.
I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and scribbled a note to a classmate, a note which normally I would not have wrote a note which I swore in. In my note I depicted the substitute as a ?bitch? and stated that I wanted this day to end so I could go home. Though this note does not seem as important to me now, it did then.
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