Bullying is the sugar in a Coke Zero

Princess Margret Secondary school, located in the city of Penticton, has a student population of about 750 kids. Each with a different personalities and trates. In this school the colour is majority white but it seems that colour is never a issue. I walk through the hallways, finding my way around this small school. I find the class room i was looking  for and enter quietly as the class is in session. I walk into a classroom where the teacher is a man that goes by Mr. Hogg. He seems to be doing a demo. I sneak into the back and bring out my notes.

"Alright class, today we are going to find out velocity using a demo," announces the teacher. "by seeing how fast this car is going when it comes into impact with Rachel Knoll!."
All the kids turn to a young classmate, including the teacher, points at the embarrassed girl and began to laugh.
"Mr. Hogg," yells a boy with his arm waving in the air.
 "Yes Matt?"
"Can I drive the car?"
"No I think I'm going to be behind the wheel on this demo"
My watch beeps as it is telling me I must move on to another class room.

                I walk up to the upstairs floor and as I look into the window of a class room, I see a teacher, torturing this innocent child with a microphone in his hand to sing along with some sort of karaoke device. The child doesn't sing. Until I see the teacher slam her ruler onto a desk in front of her and soon the innocent child begins to sing. I thought I saw a tear come out of his eye, but I was too far to notice. I turn around the corner and I enter the classroom that says "Mr.Van Camp".


      I again, sneak into the back without distraction. The kids in this classroom are quiet, heads stuck to their papers, hoping their names wouldn't be brought up.
"Stand up if you have a date this weekend," asks the Teacher.
No one stands
"Really? Not a single person? When I was your age I had millions of girls wanting to date me. It's a good thing you have me as you teacher or you would be lonely for the rest of your lives! I'm here to set your pathetic lives in order."
Still, no kid gives the teacher eye contact.
"I'm going to draw a name and who ever I draw, I will give you one tip on  how to be successful like me! Corey!"
the boy looks up with embarrassment.
" Oh boy, there is so many things to choose from. You need a hair cut for sure, and you also-"
the teacher pauses as the bell rings and the students bolt to the door. I've been at this school for one class and I already know the system in this school. It seems that the kids are very good and the low amount of  bullying in this school. The teachers on the other hand, need to learn from the classmates. I meet up with the boy who was called in the last class.
"That English class is like the swirlie in a toilet" said Corey.
" I understand that these teachers have much to learn about us. Sooner or later the bullying will stop and then we can really be a true school with Mustang pride."
Teachers, are the role models to kids. If every parent is concerned about bullying, I suggest that we replace all teachers with computers. Sure a lot of people will become unemployed but it's for the safty for our children. That way, our schools with be safe from vicious bullies such as the ones I witnessed at this school.
                  

I Am Near Perfect

I am a joy of flabbergast. George Lucas made the Trilogy (IV, V, VI) of Star Wars based on my life. I am considered the most wanted man in Miami although I've only been there once to meet the President of Monaco. I won gold in Olympic high jump with only one leg. I can dice carrots in exact and precise length and weight. On Sundays I teach Michael Phelps how to read. I take the bus to work and pay in twenties just because i can, even though i own five Lamborghini's and a 1993 Chevy Cavalier. Every morning I have a bowl of Kraft Dinner, aside of chocolate milk. I invented the Bhujangasana, also known as the Cobra pose, named after my great uncle.

I caught a cat that fell out of a tree while riding underneath the oak on my fqvourate unicycle. The owners of the cat named their newly son after me. I sleep with my eyes open, ready for danger to break into my house as they do every Tuesday evening. My name is banned in four different languages because it brings fear into their culture. I give Opera everyday advice on life. I attend Masquerade parties without a mysterious mask because my bountiful face is already a mystery as it is. I made the Buffalo extinct with nothing but a empty Pez dispenser a as well as keeping the Gray Fox's population stable.

People fear me, animals adore me.  I am a plumber without the "plumber crack". I work for multi million dallar companies and is the founder of NASA, but I want to become a male nurse because i like to help others in need and I would be a fine aspect to your school.

The Hairy Month

Today is a big day to be in grade 12. It is time to put my razor down and let mother nature take part in my appearance. It is the first morning November. Where I make a statement with my mustache saying "hey you little ninth graders! Look at what you can't grow!". It is  time where my baby face  gets a chance to prove that I've been trying to compete since the beaning of summer, waiting for this month. Sure you can't really see the blonde  mustache, but when the sun gleams on my upper lip at a certain angle, I and hopefully my peers can see the outline of maturity. Within days, the facial grows and the faces change. Though those beards, covering the bottom half of my friends faces, I can still see the faces I grew up with. But I remain proud with my hairless cheeks and chin. As well as the girls part taking in this even, unfortunately mating season nor being social to the opposite sex in not in November. But mustaches are more important than the hairy-legged females. This is the one month that teachers are afraid to compete with against the grade twelves. I personally can't compete into the teachers level but I'm still in the lead for hairiest legs between me and the faculty. Although I place myself between the female teachers and I. Mrs. Bevington is hard to compete against but I win with the gold medal. On the sidelines,  I can see that the teachers have no match against the hairy graduates of 2011. We are the more dominant in the school for the whole month. Other grades fear our rational facial hair. I, however, can proudly say we own this school. Not the large amounts of young and hairless Juniors. I and my fellow graduates also respect the competition the teachers try to bring to their defeat and I hope their respect is mutual. It took me eighteen years to grow the blonde facial hair I am proud to grow. But it also took me eighteen years to become mature and independent, ready for the world in front of me. All of this is shown through the hairs of my upper lip.