Now that I've had some downtime from the hell of middle school, I'd like to evalute my time at Monronez.

Fun Fact: Too lazy to finish.

6th Grade

Sixth grade was a time of great wiggering. I can remember me being a noob at first, not knowing where anything was. "Excuse me, can you tell me where Shop 2 is?"

In comparision to the other two years, it was the least carkassy. Everyone was a noob and didn't know everyone. Bastas were nicer and they weren't scarred by the things they would later see. Sixth grade was a bloody joke. We didn't learn arse and most of our time was spent throwing parties, eating, and being fags the whole time.

My elementary school teachers constanly hounded us saying bull, which was along the lines of this: "Oh, you guys rly need to get ready for 6th grade, cuz yall is the leaderzs of the fucking school and you need to set the examplzroz for younga grades, yall hear! Teh shit is gonaa hit da damn fan in sizth gradesz!" But that wasn't the case. Sixth grade was identical to fifth grade, only now we had more classes. I lived in a small world in sixth grade and I would bull out even further in the next two years.

My biggest regret was not doing anything with myself. At this point it was not obligatory. I had this "Well, I don't have to, so why should I?" mentality. This was bully and I regretted it. The right people weren't there to offer me wisdom so I just had to figure it out for myself. Aside from bulling out in the future, I didn't realize how much I was affected by school.

I believe it was around fourth or fifth grade when I developed aniexety issues. Being young and incompetent, I didn't even understand it at all. Through my years, I realized that I was probably the only one who was affected like this. I simply assumed it was no big deal and moved on. Now as a former eighth gradian, I understand that suppressing it wouldn't help. It would only exacerbate it. This fear would start to bull me time and time again until eighth grade, when I reached a peak in my suppressed emotions. After subconsciously tolerating three years of utter bullshit, I eventually let my emotions get the best of me. I allowed it to control my actions. It was a silent fear, something that started out small and grew exponentially with each passing year. Think of it this way:

During the beginning of sixth grade say that my anxiety problem is a 5, a number. By seventh grade, it is now 25, much worse but still not a big deal. By eighth grade it was 125. See the pattern?

By not dealing with it properly, it grew too fast too soon. It wasn't a big deal at first, but when it did become one, it was too late to stop it.

By the second semester of eighth grade, I would say that the exponent multiplied it self about every two weeks. I literally started to go mad. Every day would be the same exact bullshit as before. I would walk into class and tense up at the same stuff. This only got worse as the assignments piled up. My grades started to slip during the final key months. No one cares if you did good 90% of the year; it's the end that counts. The bombardment of the test and review burned me out. I lost all of my steam in January and I still had five more grueling months to go. I suffered constantly during this time.

Mr. Burgess

AKA: Gunnery Sergeant Burgess
Status: POW during the end of the 2010; now released

Burgess, or Revered Burgess was the one of the best teachers I ever had. I served in his platoon for the past three years honorably and with great pride. Those times were extremely lulzie and embarrassing at the same time. He was a bastard, but then again which gym teacher wasn't? I learned a lot of things from him. He's a fag, but aye, an honroable bastard indeed! Burgess, I salute you!

5/5