Shed Yool

The preferred pronunciation of schedule, in my opinion, is shed-YOOL. Yes, it's not the correct pronunciation, but it's more fun. I am now three days into my senior year of high school. Woohoo. Oh nine. Can't you sense that I'm brimming with senior spirit? Yes, I'm happy that it's my last year of high school, but I don't see a reason to be filled even unto overflowing with oh-nine exuberance. I enjoyed high school, but I'm ready to move on. Quietly.

Orchestra meets before school during x-period. The x stands for xtreme. This year's orchestra is rather small and 25-33% of them don't count. The people who don't count are either incompetent, lazy, or both. There were considerably more of them last year, and this year the people who do count care a lot more than last year's graduating seniors. This year could be a good one for the orchestra.

My first bell is AP Psychology. I signed up for the class because I needed it to graduate, and fortunately it looks like it will be much more interesting than I anticipated. Most of my classmates are ditzy junior girls, but I'm in the middle of a small rectangle of truly wonderful people.

Next comes Music Theory. I love the class already. There are only twelve of us, and our teacher loves music theory like I love tree identification. We have a lot of fun, and we're bound to learn a lot. His goal is to cram the content of an AP Music Theory class into a single semester. It's going to be awesome.

AP Art Portfolio is my third bell. There are only two of us in the course, so we're combined with the senior seminar art class. By the time my portfolio is due in May I need to have ten to twelve pieces within my chosen concentration and twelve other pieces that show by ability with a variety of styles and media. Both my teacher and I are excited about my concentration. My first piece will be a view of a forest from a distance, and then each piece will zoom in a bit until I stop at a chlorophyll pigment molecule. Instead of going the traditional route of picking a single medium for my concentration to promote unity, I've picked a color scheme. I have plans for eleven pieces. I already have an abundance of fine works of art from previous years to use in the breadth portion of my portfolio, and I'll have a few more to work with that I make in my other art class, so I will probably only need to do eleven complete projects along with tweaking some old projects.

After that comes chorale. Chorale is our school's selective audition choir. Last year's chorale went to state competition in class AA and received a superior rating. This year's chorus may not accomplish such an impressive feat, but I feel honored to be a member of it. Honored and also intimidated. I haven't been in a choir since eighth grade, and I've never had to sight read vocal music. I harmonize all the time, but I get my harmonies from listening, not from reading. The first day was overwhelming. In the few days I've been in the class, my sight-reading has already improved and consequently I'm feeling much more comfortable with the whole thing.

English, english, english. I shake my head sadly and sigh at the thought of my AP English class. It has twenty-eight students, including several that I don't want in my class. They're immature enough by themselves, but when they're all together, they're so much worse. The majority of them were also in my english class last year, and things got rough. Fortunately my current teacher seems much more capable of controlling my unruly classmates than my last teacher. The aggravating fact is that all of these people are incredibly bright, so they deserve to be in the class on an intellectual basis, but they're astonishingly immature.

After the trials of english class comes the joys of another art class! Hurrah for Mixed Media! This class may appear to be a typical choice for a senior slacker, but I do plan to at least minor in studio art, and I may take it on as a second major. I want all the art experience I can get.

The day ends with AP Calculus presented by Mr. Rahn. The man is sometimes referred to as Mr. Yawn. His voice combined with the heat of his classroom can send unwary students to sleep in no time at all. He's an excellent teacher, and if you listen to him you'll find that he has a well-developed sense of humor, but it's hard to focus in his class. I could tell Mr. Rahn stories for an indefinite period of time, but I won't get into that at this time.

The only thing missing from my schedule is a science class. I'm managing to cope by assisting friends who are taking AP Biology this year (I don't know if I mentioned this, but I did get a 5 on that test). Sometimes I look for reasons to spout scientific facts, but I've been able to control myself for the most part. I'm just waiting for the day when some unwitting english class neighbor will ask about the significance of a chemical mentioned in a poem we read. They will wish they had never thought about carbon tetrachloride, and I will exhaust my mind of all the information I have about the chemical. I'll enjoy it even if they give up on listening after a few moments.