This Week's Book Review

The Eleventh Plague

    The book that I have chosen to review is "The Eleventh Plague" written by Jeff Hirsch. This book is set in the future after a very vicious strain of influenza was released in America. America became a vast, desolate landscape after a brutal war took place. Two-thirds of the population that was affected by a vicious strain of influenza were left for dead. People began to name the sickness the eleventh plague. The main character in this book is a fifteen year old Stephen Quinn, he was born after the plague and the only thing he has ever known was to be a scavenger. But when Stephen' grandfather dies and his father falls into a coma after an accident, Stephen finds his way to Settler's Landing, a community that seems too good to be true. There Stephen meets a strong, independent, and mischievous girl named Jenny. Together they play a prank that goes horribly wrong, and causes chaos to erupt and they find themselves in the midst of a battle that will change Settler's Landing forever.
    I loved this book because it had the right amount of suspense and excitement. Every time I continued to read this book I didn't want to stop. In fact I didn't want the book to end. I like that the book was very well written with lots of descriptions and details. Everything was so well described that sometimes it seemed like I could have been watching a movie or looking at pictures. The book followed Stephen on a very emotional journey where he discovered the true meaning of life, and he discovered what was really important to him. All of the characters were very well developed; this made the book more interesting because the emotions of everyone were easier to understand.
    Two of my favourite quotes from the book are: "It was not a plague. It was a blessing. Surviving it, that's the real plague." And,
    "Well," Derrick said, panting. "I figured, uh, maybe the problem was that de didn't feel entirely at home yet, so I thought I'd perform the Settler's Landing Dance of Welcoming." "You look like you're having a seizure," Martin said drily.





    Overall, I loved this book, I would read it again, and would give it a 10/10

    ~Colleen Worger

The Ultimate Christmas Cover Disaster

By Chris Spangenberg, grade 10

With Christmas rapidly approaching, radio stations have taken it upon themselves to blast their festive theme music through the airwaves. This is lovely, when they're jamming a classic Christmas track such as Frank Sinatra or the like. However, when I hear covers of Christmas melodies, or even worse, covers of covers of Christmas tracks, I have a vague notion that we need not wait for the apocalypse next year; the 4th horseman is already shredding my eardrums to pieces. Covers of Christmas tracks are downright obnoxious. Not only is a classic being ruined but, whatever you do by caterwauling your way through the track you will never be able to recreate that warm, fuzzy effect you get when listening to a Christmas groove. Come up with your own stuff, for one. And if you do come up with a new song about Christmas, make sure it doesn’t contain the words “Snow”, “Mistletoe”, “Bells”, or “Reindeer”. I've heard enough of the word mistletoe to fill a warehouse, enough of snow to make fifteen thousand igloos, and enough of reindeer to start my own slaughterhouse. Seriously, the amount of Christmas clichés you'll find when listening to songs these days is astonishing. Not to mention it is getting old, fast. What we need is a new classic, but I'm afraid everything's been done before. I dare the music industry to prove me wrong.

A Short Story

The Story of the Three Western Pigs

By Autra Salarvand

Drawing by Jonas Gaulin, Grade 10

It was the year 1918, and the only way to prove one’s manhood was to have a Mexican standoff. In the middle of it all were three infamous pigs. The youngest of the three, Wimbledon, was a timid pork chop who trembled in his hooves when facing danger. He lived in a house far from any sort of peril at the very top of Lookout Hill. Normally, the narrator (me) would begin to explain how this pig had a house made of straw. Then along came a wolf to blow it down, something about a hairy chin, and finally the pig is gobbled up, the end. Fortunately, this isn’t that kind of a story.

Wimbledon was walking towards the town of Dustyville, and he was famished. He decided to make a stop in front of ‘The Dusty Glass,’ the most famous pub in the land.

“Give me your finest slop and a nice warm glass o’ milk.” Wimbledon professed to the waiter as he sat down at the bar. The waiter nodded then headed towards the back to fix Wimbledon's order.

After some time, Wimbledon finished his hearty meal and had had more than a bottle full of milk, but before he could leave he was rudely interrupted by the notorious wolf.

“Awooo,” howled the grey, shaggy, lanky, wolf, as he pushed open the doors to the pub. Almost instantly, his eyes fell upon Wimbledon and, licking his lips from ear to ear, he proceeded forward. He plopped himself down right next to Wimbledon, turning his stool to face him.

            “Hello, dear swine, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Nigel, and you are…?” He asked as he extended a paw.

“I-I’m Wim-Wim-Wimbledon.”  Stuttered the pig as he leaned forward to greet the wolf’s paw with his hoof.

Just as quickly as if paint was splashed across his face, the mood of the wolf changed, he now had hunger in his eyes. He brought his snout inches away from Wimbledon,

“Meet me outside,” he whispered.

“What-what-whatever for?” Wimbledon asked, wide-eyed.

“We’re having a Mexican standoff, awooo!” Nigel yowled heading outside, not leaving poor Wimbledon with any choice. Then he stopped curtly, turning around to face the shivering swine, “That is if you ain’t yeller.” He cackled, causing the whole pub to stare curiously.

“Um, n-not at-at all.” Wimbledon glanced throughout the pub, all eyes were on him. “But what have I done to be challenged to a duel?”

“I’m hungry for some bacon!” The wolf proclaimed, laughing, and then he headed outside without another word.

Wimbledon followed reluctantly - many people tipped their hats to him as if giving him a final send-off - with his hand on the gun buried in the holster. Sadly what our naïve and trusting friend, Wimbledon, did not know was that the devilish wolf was a dirty cheater. The second the pork stepped out into the hot desert sun, he was shot straight through his belly. Collapsing to the floor, holding onto his belly, he looked up.

“You cheater,” Wimbledon gasped.

Nigel prowled, meeting a dying Wimbledon on the sandy ground, and placed a paw on his chest. He increased the pressure of his paw on the pig’s velvety torso,

“Sorry, dear Wimbledon, I’m just so... hungry.” He said weighing each of his words and their meanings. And with that, he gobbled up poor ol’ Wimbledon.

The next day, news of the ridiculous battle between Nigel the wolf and Wimbledon the pig had spread throughout the town. The middle brother, Jedadiah, caught wind of the fiasco and was outraged. See, he was a naïve fool and believed his bacon-filled boasts would put the fear of god in his opponent, so he set out to find the antagonistic wolf. Kicking down the door to the pub, he found the wolf sitting at the bar with a smug smile on his face.

“Are you the one they call ‘Nigel’?” Jedadiah asked angrily.

“Yes, that is I. And to what do I owe the pleasure?” The slick wolf countered, while  raising an eyebrow to the meaty Jedadiah.

“I hereby challenge you to a duel, to avenge my brother;” he declared out loud, “Everyone here knows you cheated him!

“Me? I did no such thing!” Nigel huffed, flailing his arms around dramatically.

“I don’t believe you! The law states that you either agree to a duel or get ready to be called a ‘yeller’ for the rest of your darn life!” Jedadiah became unimpressed by the reserved wolf, “So do you agree or not?”

The wolf looked into Jedadiah’s eyes, as if searching for something, then rose off of his stool. “Awooo, let’s get out there and have us a duel!”

Nigel lead the way as Jedadiah followed with his head held high. As Jedadiah advanced into the dusty plains, he was greeted with a fast bullet to the stomach. He fell to the floor; utter shock spread across his face. Looking down, he saw a bloody hole through his centre.

Nigel strode towards the dying pig, “Never call me a cheat again,” he said with most seriously. Jedadiah became an exquisite meal for the wolf, and so fell another to his treachery.

The eldest of the threesome, Isaac, was a smart swine but also the most humble hog you’d ever hope to cross paths with. He decided to head from his brick house towards Dustyville, in search of the wolf whom he knew would most probably be within the pub. Pushing open the doors into the pub he saw Nigel at the bar, sweet talking Mrs. Hen; a wealthy aristocrat.

Tapping the shoulder of the wolf Isaac then asked, “Excuse me, but you wouldn't happen to be Nigel, would you?”

Spinning his stool around, Nigel appraised the pig, not too pleased with what he saw. Isaac was the fittest of the three, and to Nigel’s dismay he was also the thinnest.  “What can I do you for, my friendly pork dumpling?”

“I would like to carry out the retribution of both of my brothers and duel you,” He stated professionally.

“How many of you are there? Should I just expect this from now on?” The wolf asked, looking around as if expecting to see an entire army of pigs.

“I am the last of my family and I don’t think you should be expecting anything, anytime soon.” Isaac professed to Nigel, solemnly.

“Fine, let us get this over with then. I am tired and wish to put this all behind me” Nigel bellowed.

“You go on, I shall meet you outside, I must first freshen up.” Isaac said curtly, waving at Nigel and then heading towards the bathroom.

The wolf chuckled at this, “That’s fine, you go ahead. What a pansy.” Nigel said, whispering the last part to himself.

The wolf headed out as Isaac made his way to the washroom, “Let's see…” Isaac thought, looking around the bathroom. He saw a window and began to climb through it. He made his way from the back of the pub, around to the side, stalking to the front very gradually. His eyes fell upon the wolf, standing with his gun aim towards the door, hammer pulled downwards; waiting.

Isaac pulled out his revolver, pointed it at the wolf, and cocked the hammer down, finally squeezing the trigger. All the crows of Dustyville sped towards the heavens at the sound of the gunshot, racing away from danger; the same could not be said about the wolf.

“You bastard,” Wheezed the wolf, clutching at the wound at his side, “You ruined my coat and my dignity as a wolf.”

“No, dear Nigel, you did that on your own. Next time, stick to the rules. But let’s face it; there won’t be a next time for you.” And with that, the wolf expired.

Isaac trotted off for the sun, with a big ol’ sack, excited for the night’s menu.

                                                              

Race Through My Eyes

By: Mana Moshkforoush, Gr.8

What is race? Look it up in the dictionary and you will find something like: “physical divisions among humans that are hereditary”.

This means humans can be separated into groups according to their physical differences, for example their, skin color. The most popular racial groups are Africans, known as Blacks, Americans and Europeans, known as Whites, and Asians who are known as, well, Asians.

            In my personal life, I have been exposed to many racial events. I was born in Iran. My parents are Iranian, as are my aunts, uncles, and cousins. When I was three years old, my parents and I moved to Ghana, a country in West Africa. I spent the next eight years of my childhood in this beautiful country. My parents, being typical Persian parents, are big on school and academic knowledge, and so they decided to send me to an International Montgomery school.

In school, I did not fit in. I was different, all because I was white. This wasn't always a bad thing, I got lots of attention from all the kids, teachers and parents. In fact, the whole school knew me. But there were times when it wasn't so fun.

As time passed I started understanding that being different is not always about being unique or special. In grade five, we studied the history of Ghana and the Ghanaian Revolution. Ghana was colonized by Britain for centuries and the people were enslaved, tortured and traded into Europe. In general, Ghanaians had very bad memories from those times. As we studied these things in school, there would be times when the British would be named as “white people” in the text books or by the teachers. When this happened, my classmates would turn to look at me, because, after all, I was the white girl. As much as it can be fun being different and known for it, there comes a time when you wish you could just blend in and not have a title. In situations where a person is known as different in a negative way, I’m sure that person wouldn’t mind being treated fairly and with equality.

                 In Ghana there was no such thing as “racism”. Don’t get me wrong, there was racism, but wasn’t a name for it. It wasn’t right or wrong. In fact the first time I heard of the word “racism” was when I moved to Canada, two years ago. Imyself, have never been faced with racism in Canada, although I do know people who have, because of their religion and the the way they live their lives. Everyone will face racism, either directly or indirectly. The funny thing though, is that racist people have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about. If someone asks you the question: “What is race?” chances are your answer will be: “skin color”, however, that’s not very accurate, as there’s actually more genetic difference between a black Kenyan and a black Ugandan, than there is between a black Kenyan and a white Norwegian. We all stem from Africa, and so in Africa, there’s been more time to create genetic diversity. In other words, race has no basis in biological and scientific fact. It is clear that even though race does not have a biological meaning, it does have a social meaning that has been legally constructed.

What if someone asks you what racism is? We should all know the answer to this question. Racism is the unfair treatment and hate towards someone for something they had no choice in. Racism mainly stems from ignorance of another person's culture and ignorance promotes distrust and dislike of something a person doesn't understand.

                 Racism can have a lot of effects. It can make people angry, bitter or violent. It can destroy self esteem and create a horrifying defeatist nature. Judgments prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearance. The next time you’re about to make a thoughtless  horrible comment about someone, think for a minute and try to understand that if you judge people, you have no time to love them.

“Racism is a learned

affliction and anything that is learned

can be unlearned.”

Book Review

This Week’s Book Review

Colleen Worger, Grade 10

The book that I have chosen to review is "Love Drugged" written by James Klise. This book is about a 15 year old boy named Jamie. While Jamie is at school he is trying to stay out of the way of everyone and keep to himself, and most importantly protect the fact that he's gay. When someone discovers his secret Jamie does all he can to change who he is. No one thinks twice about him dating the most beautiful girl in school -- Celia Gamez. After stealing a new drug that is supposed to "cure" his attraction to guys, Jamie realizes that lying and using can shatter the world of deception that he has created and hurt the people that are closest to him.

          I found this book very interesting , but I had to read a couple of chapters before I managed to really get into the book, and really start to understand what Jamie was going through. Most of the characters were well developed and easy to understand, by the end of the book it was  a bit easier to fully understand why the characters did what they did. Most of the book explained that after Jamie's secret was discovered he became very insecure and embarrassed of who he was, it also followed Jamie on his journey to understand why he was unique and important to so many people. After reading most of the book I found that it became monotonous and quite predictable. I did like that the message of the story was to appreciate yourself because you are unique and you don't need to change to become what people expect you to be. Two of my favourite quote from the book are: "It sounded like something Thomas Jefferson might have said, or Ben Franklin, or Maya Angelou--one of those people who became famous for saying obvious things in interesting ways." And, "The island was where we'd all be forced to live once our families and friends shut the doors in our faces and told us we disgusted them."

          Overall, I found this book interesting and would give it a 6.5/10.

          ~Colleen Worger

Fluorescent

Fluorescent

Written by: Kelly Cameron, Grade 10

Intriguing how the lack of sight in arms can overcome

Senses combine and strengthen passion, nothing has been done

A silent din will soon erupt, sends shivers up a spine

Ruin love with dull bland shades, it surely is a crime

Drinking in a sinful lust that always speaks of Eden

Gazing out to the dark matter that our voice is feeding

Little sense and psychedelic thoughts like LSD

Facing everything and nothing human eyes can see

Six feet under us, we are six feet above the source

Clawing at my ankles, uncalled for, but it’s the course

Smiling at it all in a swirl of apparitions

Living in a zone of exploding dead transmissions

Freaking out at everything and anything presented

Forgetting about all the things we’ve ever documented

Relish all the moments high above and on the world

Lashing out with ribbons that our memories have unfurled

Try and fail and try again to see the things we see

Try and fail to see the romance in this gorgeous dream

Technicolor everything, perhaps it’s just as well

To let it be, enjoy it while it lasts, pre-light up hell

Not dead again, but alive upon the foreign dark

The unknown, I ask to fill me with those blinding sparks

Destroying silence, massacre the tears and make the vow

'Cause every time we say it, lights light up, and sound turns down

What Makes a Good Teacher?

What Makes a Good Teacher?

                Whether you are a teacher, parent, student, or some other helpful, contributing member of society, I’m sure that you are aware of the fact that there is no guidebook or set of tasks exist for people to follow which will in turn give them the attributes of a good teacher. It comes from within. So who better to ask the opinion of what makes a good teacher than the students who are directly benefiting from the teachings of these noble individuals? Here is the combined answer of two groups of grade ten students when asked exactly that:

Are your students mistaken for an army of sleeping beauties? Is a ravenous shark eating all of the enthusiasm out of your classroom, leaving nothing but a prison-like environment? There are some teachers who are passionate about their work, and really attempt to make each of their lessons interactive, original, and fun. Sadly, this isn’t the case with all of our educators. If it were up to us, the students, this would be the first prerequisite on the list of qualifications when selecting teachers. They need to be able to know their students, and set up their lessons in accordance with the class dynamics. These teachers are faced with the enormous challenge of trying to make their subject matter interesting and enjoyable, while fixing it into the brains of their pupils so that it won’t be washed away by a wave of video games and television in these technological times.

Teachers affect students learning if they have a good personality. When teachers use humour, they create a more interesting class and engage their students more. For example, those who capture the attention of students by making jokes and connections about things in their personal lives are easier to relate to. It makes the students more interested in the subject while keeping them entertained and ensuring that they understand the lesson. It is also important for the teacher to be approachable, enabling their students to feel comfortable asking for help, which is an important part of the learning process.

                To positively affect a student’s learning experience, a good environment is essential. This could include an organized and well maintained classroom, or being mentally and physically active by doing warm ups for the brain and stretches. Studies have shown that the average human brain can only retain a certain amount of information in one sitting, and that it can only work to its full potential for twenty minutes at a time. A solution to this is being able to get out of your seat occasionally to stretch or participate in a physical learning activity. Following this, a classroom that is decorated in an enthusiastic manner results in a positive learning environment. People relax when they are in a setting in which they feel comfortable, which helps them learn better. A good learning atmosphere includes a variety of different activities. For instance, not only taking notes off of an overhead, but also being able to work in groups, with everyone contributing. Finally, if the teacher posts up examples of previous students’ work, it can help other to grasp the idea and know what to do. The environment impacts a student’s ability to learn well, but that’s also where a teacher’s swag kicks in.

                And finally, swag; like the cherry on top of a chocolate sundae, swag (or swagger, for you folk of an older vintage) is what completes the teacher. One who knows the subject they are teaching, while keeping their students engaged and interested in learning it is truly a rare combination. It’s that x-factor, that indefinable quality that nobody can quite put their finger on, but is easy to detect if it is there.

                We believe that a zippy personality, a laid back environment, and a confident swag add up to make a great teacher. Don’t be the punishing, super-strict teacher, be the funny, easy-going one that all the students love. You don’t want your classroom to be nicknamed, ‘The Dungeon’, so ensure that it is a healthy environment that people enjoy coming to. And a teacher without swag is like a PB+J without peanut butter, it’s too plain. So is your classroom the sleeping quarters for an army of well-trained and mindless drones? Or is it a creativity-filled place where learning is fun?

Ms. Dolha’s Grade 10 English Class

Book Review

This Week’s Book Review

Colleen Worger, Grade 10

          The book that I have chosen to review is “Beauty Queens” written by Libba Bray. The story is about fifty American beauty queen contestants who are all on their way to compete in the Miss Teen Dream Pageant. Each girl has a distinct personality, and all are reminiscent of real life. While flying to the pageant however, the plane crashes on a remote island that has been uninhabited for many years. The book follows the survivors of the crash on their journey throughout the mysterious island while they try to find an answer to the strange things that have been happening to them. (Lost vibes anyone?).

            I enjoyed this book quite a lot and found it entertaining and very funny at times. One thing that struck me as odd was that the book didn’t seem to have a main character; it was told from the point of view of all the different characters stranded on the island. It took me a while to connect everyone’s names and remember who was who because there were so many different characters. Once I got past that, I found that one of the main reasons I loved it was there was a lot of humour in it, which was like the cherry on top for me. It really fit well with the story. The author did a great job of putting a large amount of detail and explanations about the setting into the book which made it easier to understand what life was like for the beauty queens. Another other part of the book that I enjoyed was that occasionally there was a page that was set up like a beauty pageant form and you could read it and learn new things about one of the characters. All of the detail, and even the character’s feelings were described so well that I felt like I could have been on the island watching all of the events unfold. Two of my favourite quotes from the book are:

“I don’t want to do the pageant anymore. I want to make another hut. That was fun. And I want some gummi bears.”, and “Your problem is not having any trust. You expect the world to fail you, so it does. And then you get all pouty-pants about it. How’s that workin’ out for you, New Hampshire?”

            I did enjoy this book a lot and would give it a 9/10.

Five Minutes of Fear

Five Minutes of Fear

A paper masked zombie, a serial killer with a love for flashing lights, and a guy on a phone who likes to creep on teenage girls, these are some of the fantastic, scary, and sometimes funny shenanigans that go on in these gruesome, and very awesome short movies. But be Warned, these are not for the faint of heart!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4id7hFvCS34&feature=channel_video_title

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7HjVuDEqW4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SacSnf7lD40

We Day

We Day

Written by Julia Pinnock, Gr. 10

Who’s ready to make a change? We are!
Who’s ready to make a difference? We are!!
Who’s ready to change the world? WE ARE!!!

These were the electrifying words spoken by Marc and Craig Keilberger at the closing of We Day, appropriately dubbed, ‘the Youth Leadership Movement of our Time’. With eighteen thousand youth and educators filling Rogers Arena, it truly was an awe-inspiring experience. With guest speakers such as former leader of the USSR, Mikhail Gorbachev, actress-turned-political-activist Mia Farrow, and of course the incredible Keilberger brothers, founders of Free the Children, it was a line-up of icons, the likes of which many of the attendees had never seen before.               

 It all began when Craig was twelve years old. He read about a boy who was the same age named Iqbal Masih, who was murdered for speaking out against child labour. Iqbal had been forced to work in a carpet bonding factory since the age of four. Enraged by what he had read, Craig decided that he wanted to make a difference, and prevent hearing more stories like that of Iqbal. This was the beginning of what would become Free the Children, and the cornerstone for WeDay. If they could do it, why can’t we? Well, WeDay showed us that we can; we can make a difference, and we can change the world. We’re doing it right now. They call us the Hero Generation, because these are the deciding years. These are the years where we find out if we can reverse the mark we’ve made on the planet, and humanity, and try to fix our old mistakes with new solutions. We are the leaders of tomorrow, and WeDay was the beginning of our steps forward today.

http://www.weday.com/

Endangered Species

Endangered Species

Written by Michael Redmond, Gr. 8

There are six hundred and thirty one endangered species in Canada right now but I shall be highlighting 4 of them.

White-headed Woodpecker

There are less than one hundred of these birds in the southern pine forests of British Columbia. The forests are being destroyed by fires, beetle infestations and for use of their wood for furniture making.  

Sage Thrasher

There are only 7 to 36 of these birds left in Canada. There are so few of these birds in Canada because they have lost their nesting homes. As there are so few, we aren’t sure what type of trees they nest in and we can’t help to maintain their habitat.

Atlantic Salmon

This popular salmon used for farming has suffered declines. In fact, there are so few that in Lake Ontario, they are now considered extinct.

Dolly Varden

The Dolly Varden trout is becoming extinct due to the effects of climate change. This has hugely impacted fisherman because it is a very popular fish.

Scientists believe that the loss of endangered species is greater now than in any time in history. Animals face extinction due to humans 75% of the time.

Think about what you can do to help. Check out Hinterland Who’s Who at http://www.hww.ca/index_e.asp to find out how.

The Care and Keeping of Your T.O.C.

The Care and Keeping of Your T.O.C.

Written by Emma Markus, Gr. 10

                Sometimes, for whatever reason, your teacher is absent from class. Oh dear! Whatever will you do? But fear not, for your absentee teacher will have called in a "T.O.C." (A.K.A. Teacher On Call). T.O.C.'s are renegade teachers, with no classroom to call their own. They must spend each work day in a different classroom with different rules, taught to them by a ragtag bunch of say thirty kids, all of whom expect the T.O.C. to have memorized their names by the end of class. One would assume that this would command a certain degree of respect, but evidently not. Why? It is a complete mystery.

                Second grade tricks are all well and fine - when you're in second grade. This teacher on call has to learn the names of about four classes of thirty or so children a day. That is one hundred and twenty kids a day, or eight hundred and forty kids a week. So changing names and switching seats with your best buddy in order to completely trip up the T.O.C. whenever he or she calls you by the wrong name (by laughing loudly, no less!)? Not cool. Show a little respect, huh guys?

                I cannot quite imagine why anyone who went through high school would possibly want to teach it. I mean, having experienced firsthand how horrible high schoolers can be to teachers. But to each her own; I'm not here to criticize. But I am here to talk about T.O.C. appreciation (or lack thereof) so let's roll with that instead. A teacher with their very own classroom can at least establish respect; they have to teach you all year, and can in fact follow misbehaviour through with punishment. So why not act like complete jerks to the substitute, it isn't like they can reprimand you! Isn't that a great idea? No, you fool, haven't you been listening? They have to deal with this nonsense every day, from different kids nonetheless! Why not dare to be different? Be polite and respectful; renew the teacher's faith in the next generation. Go on, I dare you. Oh, and T.O.C.'s leave something called "notes", perhaps you have heard of them? They are like texts, written down in pen on a piece of paper. Revolutionary. These are for your regular teacher, detailing the classes’ behaviour. Yes children, the teacher's know what you did. Run!
               
                 Perhaps you have merely been taking your anger out on the poor substitute, anger stemming from the fact that your regular teacher remembered to call in a sub at all. No free block for you, oh the humanity! Get over it. Have you ever thought that the T.O.C. may be more susceptible to, say, a nice game of thumbs up seven up (Do high schoolers still get to play that, or is it just for elementary school?) if you treated them with respect? I can see from the look on your face that I have given you a lot to think about. It's okay, don't hurt yourself. I know, thinking is hard.

                So please, next time you have a T.O.C. in the classroom, try putting yourself in her (a statistical probability) or his (less likely but still plausible) shoes. These people are here to share their "wisdom" with you, for one block only. They might never see you again, but will remember you forever as "That One Kid With The Stupid Shoes" or something. I'm quite sure you'll agree that that is something nobody wants. So prevent it. Only you can stop T.O.C. under appreciation.