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Rosenrot, o, Rosenrot
So we won our field hockey game today. Score was 3-2.
We played in this insane downpour while they were issuing tornado watches and asking the coaches if they wanted to stop the game. Our coach, being stubborn and, well, Italian, said no way. We played on, soaking wet, windblown and freezing.
The other team tried to score on us six times. Three times, the ball went out of bounds. Twice, it got in. Once, I stopped it.
Coach still insists I'm her hero.
The first time the ball went in I slid and fell in the mud and the other team actually came to try and help me up (I'm the goalie, FYI, and I'm forced to wear layers of padding).
Second time, they had this interesting strategy; have two girls stand on the while line just outside the goal and wait to get the ball and score. Now, we have a little thing we call "marking up" which means defense from our team stands in the general vicinity of the other team's offense. I started yelling, "Mark up! Mark up!" and motioning frantically towards my two goal- buddies, but everyone marked up with the people farthest from the goal.
Are you kidding?
So the girl on my left got the ball. I ran over to kick it outa there when she hit it to the girl across the goal. I, being a perfect resemblance of the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man (or as one of the girls on my team calls me, "Lego- Girl" wink , could only waddle over fast enough to watch that little orange ball fly past and listen to the screaming visitors.
Meh, we still won. And if I'd let that one ball in that I did stop, we would've tied, or the game would've gone completely differently and we could've lost.
Anyway, I'm an instinctual person- probably why the goalie position is so good for me; it requires little more than stopping the ball and getting it far, far away from the goal by any means possible. Being an instinctual person, I rarely think before I act (not good) and I do not like to change at all (also not good). I'm a Drama Queen- I'm a Drama Empress, if you will- and so I curse when I'm angry, I cry when I'm sad and I laugh like a maniac when something funny happens.
So I'm struggling in one of my classes- I'll bet we all know what. Algebra. I suck at it, honestly. Letters, I can do. Numbers, I can sometimes do. Letters and numbers together is a different story. I showed it today. I was stressing during class, sighing and scowling and scribling all over my papers.
So my teacher asks to talk to me.
Of course, it would seem I was overreacting when I cried, and stomped my feet and had to restrain from cursing like a drunken sailor. But something finally hit me today.
I have two friends on the football team, and when I was walking with them, they and the rest of the team had signs on their chests with the words "Let ------ play!!" written on them.
(protecting this persons identity.)
So I go, "Dude, what's that all about?"
And one of my friends goes, "Oh, ------ is on academic probation-"
"Meaning he's all, like, duuuuuh," the other interjected.
"-So coach isn't letting him play. We really need him."
Then I realized, that could be me- failing this stupid class and being put on academic probation, letting my entire team down. I can't do that.
Not only that, but I'm in two honor societies, jazz band and I'm planning to play lacrosse this spring. I can't do any of that if I don't get a decent grade. I'd let the jazz band down, I'd let the lacrosse team down and I'd let myself down.
Oh, not to mention that my father would never allow me to dance, sail, swim, play piano or saxophone or write or draw or leave the house ever again.
So yeah, I overreacted, and I'm hard to handle when I get in bad moods. All my friends can usually do is give me chocolate and escape quietly through the nearest exit. (I still love them, though- I'd do the same thing if I were them).
As always, I dodged the real meaning of why I was so upset and just simply said "i don't get it" over and over again.
This teacher calls my house while I'm at pre- game practice today, and when I call my parents to fill them in on the situation with the rain and all, they go "Why is this teacher calling our house about some test tomorrow? What did you say to him?"
I was sent to the school counselor in fourth grade the day my hamster died because I was so upset, so my mom never wanted me to ever talk to teachers I don't really know well ever ever ever again. I was upset because I've never been able to handle the suffering of living creatures very well. My arguement is that, dude, I was a little nine- year- old kid upset that her hamster was convulsing. I think I would've sent a kid to the counselor if she wasn't upset about that! Seriously, what kid wouldn't be upset about their dying pet?
Anyhow, this teacher thinks I'm either the next columbine case, a very depressed emo kid or that my parents put too much pressure on me. I don't take time to do my homework, it's true, but I still take it and school very seriously and therefore I push myself, not to an unhealthy point but I still do push myself.
My dear friend said I should've told her earlier about this problem- that she's willing to help me with my schoolwork whenever I need it. Awesomeness. I gots a tutor.
But I stll have to work things out with this teacher.
Any suggestions?
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