Kylie Langlois

Morals

 

    Dear Lord, I hate English class. Mr. Gates just prattles on and on about dead guys who apparently revolutionized modern literature. I'm not sure if he's talking about the romantics, the existentialists, or even freaking anti transcendentalists (unlikely because we supposedly went over them last year). Mr. Gates tells us that we only need three things in this class to succeed: his lectures, the major works of the authors we're going over, and supplementary material (that he gives us. Well, let me tell you, you do only need three things in Mr. Gates' senior English class: some key words from his lectures to look up later on the internet, cliff notes (or spark notes), and supplementary material (aka Micheal, my best guy friend who happens to be an English genius and has read everything we are reading in his spare time. I know, he's a freak, but I love him). 
    Speaking of love, I just happened to look over at Kris (aka the love my life at this point). God he is so beautiful. Just as I was about to slip into full on day dream mode, complete with glazed eyes and blank stare, a voice cuts through my dream like fingernails grating on a chalkboard:

    "Can anyone tell me the moral of this story?" Mr. Gates drones, like that one ghost teacher in Harry Potter.

    Crap. Time to make quasi-eye-contact so Mr. Gates passes right over me and hopefully goes for the more obvious zombies in this hell hole called English class. But just in case, I try in vain to try to decipher the hieroglyphics on the board, the notes of our lecture. This is impossible; I need a Rosetta Stone or something to figure this chicken scratch out.

    Oh no, he's made eye contact. "Miss White, what is the moral of this story?"

    "Erm...Define 'moral,'" I try to stall as long as possible while simultaneously trying to telepathically get Micheal's attention to slip me the answer/pray to the heavens that the sky will open up and a choir of angels will sing me the answer or Mr. Gates will be struck by some debilitating disease that will render him useless to teach. One can only hope.

    Mr. Gates sighs. I'm not exactly his brightest student, and Mr. Gates is often exasperated with me. He'll probably pass me just so he won't have to spend summer school with me.

   "A moral is the overall lesson learned by any character, usually the main protagonist, in a story. An example of a moral would be 'not to tell lies, as it creates more problems eventually' or 'never trust strange men in dark alleys,'" Mr. Gates explains to us like these are the prophetic words for the Apocalypse. But apparently, he's not gonna let me off the hook that easily.

    "So Miss White, what is the moral of this particular story?"

    Even after all that, I have no idea what we are reading. For all I know, we could be reading The Little House on the Prairie (which is a terrible series, by the way).

    "Ummmm...."

    Saved by the bell. Heck yeah. But Mr. Gates is shouting something over the sudden wakening of the dead that is our class when the bell saves us, "For tonight's homework: create a moral to your life thus far, to be turned in tomorrow with an explanation!"

    Pfft. Homework. I'm a second semester senior, and as such, I should be exempt from all homework. Its like a plague that you have to endure all high school and then second semester of senior year rolls around and suddenly, you're cured! But no. Apparently the administration believes we still have more to learn. Why do we need to do that when we already know where we're all going to college and all that we really care about are snagging boyfriends for summer romances (or girlfriends for the guys and few select girls)?

    Unfortunately, what Mr. Gates said stuck in my head all day. What would the moral of my story be? What have a learned after living seventeen years on this planet? What great wisdom could I pass onto the next generation? After walking out of Mr. Gates class, a la stag because Micheal disappeared, I think I've got a possible one: Do not day dream about boys during English class. Or better yet: Do not day dream about boys in general because they are the ultimate root of all problems in this world, especially high school. Hmmmm, that's a pretty good one.

    Anyway, back to the task at hand: navigating through the hallways unscathed. This is quite a feat that I have perfected after four years in this place. The key is to know which hallways are the least crowded at which times. For instance, the freshman hallways is pretty empty right after the bell rings because they do not yet realize that leaving the classroom as soon as possible is the key to success. I mean, its all fine and dandy to listen to teachers and to get a good education; but to hang on their every word is just a little much. I sincerely love how naive some freshmen are. But the majority of them annoy me. I honestly do not remember being that annoying or small.
    Ouch.
    Somebody practically just body checked me into a bank of lockers. I've waited too long in the sophomore hallway; never a good place to be. Regardless of the time, the sophomore hallway is just a bad place to be. All the sophomores think they are so superior just because they aren't freshmen anymore. Geesh. Its nauseating. Whereas the junior hallway is more relaxed and the senior hallway is practically always deserted because we don't need books for half of our classes. This is a pretty good store of knowledge. This could be another moral of my life. At least the moral to my high school life: know which hallways are safe and which are unsafe; and never travel into unknown territory. Take evasive action if necessary.
    Curse Mr. Gates for assigning us this project! Its like I've been cursed to only think in morals today. These last two will definitely not get me a good grade.
    O dear, I'm buzzing. Time for a bathroom break. I look at my caller ID. It my mother. What is she doing, calling me at school?
    "Hello?"
    "Pepper? Its Mom." Yeah, that's right. My name's Pepper. Sucks.
    "Hey, wassup?"
    "You got into Stanford," replies my mom, all nonchalant. For a second I thought she was kidding me. When I finally realized she was not, in fact, kidding, I stood there in the bathroom stall for about a minute, speechless.
    "Pepper, you still there?" She sounds kinda worried. Maybe I should turn my brain back on. I think I'm in shock.
    "Yeah," I choke out. "Stanford? Like THE Stanford? Stanford, the college I've wanted to go to since I was a freshmen? That one?!" I'm practically shouting now. I think I've moved onto hyperventilating.
    "Ummm, sure, that one." Seriously, could she show some interest in my life? I mean, its her money anyway. "Good job honey," she says, almost as an afterthought.
    The bell rings. Darn, I'm late. O, who cares? I got into Stanford! Wait! I'm having an epiphany! Moral of my life: work hard and good things will happen to you!
    "Hon, I gotta go," my mom says somewhat urgently.
    "Huh? Yeah, okay, bye," I say while my mind is refining my new moral of my life. I mean, despite my obvious slacker exterior, I really am a hard worker. I really do care about my education. I just can't let anyone else know that. Or that I'm in the top 10, as of now. But I can tell everyone that I got into Stanford!

    So, to recoup, I have three morals so far: do not day dream about boys because they are the root of all evil, know which hallways are the most navigational, and work hard and good things will come to you. Mr. Gates won't go for the last one; it sounds like I pulled it from a children's book. The first two probably won't have enough substance for the great Mr. Gates. You know, teachers think they are so awesome, but really, they're just regular people. You know who are regular people also? The 'popular' people (the football players and cheerleaders, mainly). Also the weird kids, like the drama kids, who are just so out there that they're only friends with each other, but are really nice. As Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and even Abraham Lincoln all said: we are all created equal. High school is like a giant socioeconomic-political hierarchy, even if its really subtle. At my school, the hierarchy isn't that pronounced, but its still there. I mean, if everyone figured ut that we are all human beings, that wouldn't exists and I'm pretty sure high school would be more bearable.

    Even though I'm sitting here in the bathroom, ditching class and avoiding an education, I feel like I'm actually learning more than I have all four years combined. I really am having an epiphany. I realize that high school isn't about boys or hallways or teachers, its about the time you have. I mean the time you spend with your friends and the time you even spend with yourself. If all people are created equal, then aren't we all worth something? Doesn't each individiual person matter in this prison we are forced in? The answer is yes.

    I think I finally have a moral for Mr. Gates and its only second period: Everybody has worth in this world, no matter who they are, who their friends are, how much money they have, or what kind of clothes they wear. They matter.

    Damn, I feel mature. I need to go find Micheal and share my epiphany with. As I'm slinking out of the bathroom, I run into Sara Black, my archnemesis.

    "Move freak," is the nice response I get from her.

    Remembering my epiphany, I go: "Why hello there Sara, how are you today?"

    "Get away from me," she says with a perplexed look on her face. Mission accomplished.

    "Bye," I say and before she has time to react, I escape. As I walk down the deserted hallway, I see Micheal and some of our friends. Apparently, they're also above secondary education at this point. I wonder if they've had epiphanies too. Regardless, we all decide our overworked brain need a rest after an hour at school. Seeing as Micheal drives to school, we all hit up Starbucks across town. This is what high school is all about: hanging out with friends who think you matter, which you do (not the ditching school to go to Starbucks part).

    So, in conclusion, Mr. Gates, I just want to say that the moral of my life, the one overall lesson that I've learned is that all people matter in this world, even people like Sara and annoying freshmen, and that you should spend your time with people who think that you matter and that you are worth their time.

    Now that's a moral.