The V-Hopher

I have been trained from birth to crack under pressure...even if I've done nothing wrong.

An excert from my day:
My Economics teacher for this new semester is my most dire advisary yet. Today was the second day of the semester. I was still adjusting to the new classes, and...I was careless. I went down the hall of my old Government class, and suddenly realized I was not where I should have been! So I turned quickly, trying to make it back to my Economics class before the bell [honest and for truly!] but I couldn't make it in time...I was tardy...just before I could get to the door. And when I stepped in, that man had a thick binder laid out neatly on his bare, desolate desk [no flowers...no pictures of family...the man just ejected himself straight from Hell and inserted himself in his chair straight out of exhistence one day...] And he said in his Cranky, intimidating voice, "You're late. Sign the book." and he pointed to his tardy book. I put my things down at my desk, and went to sign, feeling strike one against me.

Strike two came when I returned to my seat, and began to pull things out. When he came by with a surprise homework check [I had no idea he was even moving around until he was two desks away] I began to rumage quickly through my supplies, looking for my paper. It was not placed in my spiral, but my Economics book, along with my new workbook that was also snagged in there. Not only did he catch me off guard, but he now knew I was not prepared [which he gave a huge speech about just the day before as he chewed out a bunch of students who didn't have their book mind you] and I was not organized. Fear was instilled with strike two, and then he mumbled strictly before he passed over my desk, "See me after class."

There wasn't even a strike three. Its like I forgot to spread the lamb's blood over my door frame during pass over or something [biblical reference] So for the rest of the period, my head was spinning, trying to figure out just what it was that I was in trouble for. My friend even passed me a glance of genuine pity as the class began. I sank in my chair, in utter despair convinced that I had pratically destroyed my peaceful boundaries between me and the V-Hopher [thats how you pronounce his name anyways...]

And then the bell rang. I gathered my things, and went to his desk, and he asked my if I had trouble seeing in my seat and if I needed a closer desk because of my 504...

I felt like I had suddenly been shot in the head. If that was all he needed, why did he have to say "See me after class" like I was on death row? This class is going to kill me.

True story...Miser isn't the only one who's got it bad with a teacher now.