Everyone who went to high school at one point in their academic career was required to do an essay. We all know too well the perils of waiting to the last minute to finish it for the following class.
It all starts when the teacher hands out the assignment and says that the essay is due in two weeks. Cool, you think, you got lots of time to get to the library get the material and start the outline for it.
All of a sudden you realize that you now have a week left, it's due next Friday, and it's a week before. You decide that instead of blowing off plans to go and party this weekend, that you'll just party tonight. You'll get home not to late, and go the library Saturday afternoon. You have a great time at the party, have one too many drinks and end up passing out on the floor of some girl's bedroom. You wake up to find your self amongst a sea of drunken students on the floor, not sure exactly where you are.
The room spins, every time you open you eyes. The person behind you is serving well a pillow, and the person at your feet is helping keep your toes warm. The sudden urge to know what time it is forces you to open your eyes and look at your watch. Damn, it's 2:45 and the library closes at four. You get up, regain what little sense of balance you have, find what you believe to be your shoes and head for the library.
It's now 6pm and you were lucky enough to find the books for your essay. You head home, and decide that you will start the outline. Half way through you get a call that the "gang" is going to a movie and it start's in an hour. You foolishly decide to go. Trying figuring it will be a great treat to yourself if you can just get as much of the outline as possible before you leave.
Sunday morning rolls around and you get up and are determined to at least start the essay, when you realize that the outline you wrote is completely off topic.
You decide that you've but a enough work into this for one weekend and end up doing something that could be counter product to you later in life, but what the heck, you're going to live for today.
For some unknown reason you missed out on the first half of the week and life is now filled with the stress of regular home work and this major paper hanging over your head which is due Friday.
At lunch you manage to get the outline finish and surprisingly get it look over by the teacher. She is very impress and looks forward to reading you final essay. No pressure right?
Wednesday fades and gives way to Thursday. You get to school bright and early feel confident that during the course of the day will have time to start the paper that your teacher is so looking forward too. As usually, every time you try to get anywhere you are interrupted by a friend who asks what you are doing (duh!?) or a teacher says "This is not the time and place to be playing catch up young man, please focus on the work at hand." Of course you oblige the teacher, until they've turned their back.
Thursday evening: you find yourself in a panic trying to get your regular work done so you can focus the essay too which through no fault of your own, have cause a great expectation from you teacher. Because face it you know it and your teacher knows it, you have bad time management skills, not unlike every other student.
Regular homework aside, you now have started working on your essay, it's 9:30. Do you know where your parents are? They're in the living room talking and on the spur of a moment decide that now, yes NOW, would be a great time to have a family meeting. With your mother promising you, "Oh, dear, this will only take a moment." Yeah right.
It's now 10pm, and it's time for the 10pm, night before the essay, oh my God I'm dead, pleading to God ritual. "God, please give me one more day. I know a screwed up, just one more day! I promise I'll never do it again".
Hopeful thoughts of wishing that your teacher would be sick tomorrow, or even better that you would contract an "actual" illness that would give you a doctors note, giving you the time to recover and, oh yeah, finish the essay for Monday morning.
It's Friday morning and by some miracle you managed to have a proof read finish product to give to your awaiting teacher. You carefully put it in a binder so that it does not get crushed. You head to your first class and all is well, except for the two big bags under eyes that cry out to "those who know"; I WAS UP AND JUST FINISHED MY ESSAY, AND I'M HERE!
On your way to second period, a familiar sound fills the air, it's the fire alarm. Speculations of who might have done it fill the halls. Teachers running around cursing how it's the (pick a number)th time this month. Every one is told to leave in an orderly fashion.
The principal is fuming by this point and wants to get to the bottom of this. In his eagerness to find the guilty party, he save you the agony of having to live the torment of handing in the essay you slaved over and getting that "I know" look from your teacher.
The rest of the afternoon is cleared and all students are required to attend a presentation in the auditorium of how this is bad for everyone and if you know the guilty party it is your "duty" to come forward and report this, etc. etc.
As life goes on you think back of those times when we all thought "life was good" and realize the hell we all went through just to be who we are, doing what we enjoy most,
What ever it maybe.....
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