the oracle of 7th period precalculus: a memoir

a eulogy for my discontinued precalc class. unfinished.

You could say that we were a bunch of children who were drawn together, and in a way you'd be right. It would only be just one way, though, and in all the other ways you would be wrong. I am a strong advocate of fate who refuses to give coincidences and happenstances credit for any of the brands that life makes on me. I do not think that what I believe to be this school year's best precalculus class was simply borne from computer-generated class schedules, a sort of venn diagram containing the spectacular group that was us in one of it's oddly shaped sectors. I like to think that a majority of the things I did and experienced shaped my probabilaty of getting into this class and the events that unfolded in it. Fate brought us all together.
But I don't like to think that fate tore us apart.

It was mid-august and I walked into Scott Wynn's precalculus class apprehensively. I thought that my class was going to be cursed from a pattern that I had encountered for the past three years of my high school career: Seventh period classes were always cursed. As a freshman, I loathed my second semester study hall with Ms Kane and had to turn to 100 sheets of paper bound together to keep my sanity. Sophomore year's seventh period was Honors Chemistry, a class that nearly brought the death of me and I deeply regret taking. My hate for Honors Chem was replaced the next year, when I spent my seventh period trapped in a room with Melissa Smith, whom I consider the devil. Given this history, I predicted that my precalculus class would be doomed, all at my own bidding.

But it never happened, and before long I realized that precalculus was actually my favorite class, despite to my aversion to mathematics. For the first time in years, I actually understood what was going on for the first time in years and though it seems quite sad, Coach Wynn was the best math teacher I'd had so far. I liked precalc more than AP Euro, english, chorus, more than any of my other classes, and though I found it a bit odd, I never questioned it. I couldn't help that I liked precalc best, so I decided not to worry about it. There were actually far more things I loved about the niche in my schedule than I could ever dream of hating. Firstly, our class was composed of a good variety of personalities, with bold and unruly being dominant traits among us. We composed a symphony of obscenities and sardonic laughte and exploited Scott's Attention Defecit Disorder to the extent that we were behind our mathematical journey's schedule shortly into the semester. We were Jordan, Chatty Kathleen, and Abby, the infamous L of Evil that only conversed more when separated. We were the baby Bozek, who was constantly ripped on for sleeping in a crib and knowing all the answers. We were Mary, who drilled Scott with sarcasm, and Meghan, who drove Scott to insanity and fought with Kutay and Rod, the two who always talked about Quentin Tarantino movies and laughed at my ability to corrupt anything that Scott said. We were Chase, who always wrote "Go Dawgs" on the SmartBoard, and Jessica and Maryam, the only two who Scott never yelled at. And we were Lizamar and I, who wrapped our class' hysteria in swarm of giggle fits and punny jokes. We were simply the most endearing and noisy group of adolescents that the 2009 precalculus season offered, and we were simply a group of thirteen. We were warriors rather than students, visionaries rather than children, and we were proud.

But something terrible happened. They say it was a result of a scheduling conflict, but I just don't buy that. Perhaps the authorities realized the bond we created and interpreted it as hazardous. Perhaps Scott wanted to get out of an extra daily hour of teaching precalculus to unruly students. Perhaps the administration was using us as a sort of experiment that had finally produced its results. Perhaps the school was just being really gay. But whatever its reason was, our separation was issued, and its foreshadowing arrived unexpectedly. Sometimes I like to think that the world is out to get me, and what happened to our precalc class was just another example of it. I do not, however, want the authorities to know that they have managed to upset me and cause me to produce such sentimental feelings towards any of my experiences at Mount de Sales. So yes, I overwhelmingly invite you to mourn, for you have experienced a profound loss. Correspondingly, we shall continue to embrace the diamond-like bond forcing us together. We shall never forget what we have been through as a class, and we shall never forget what the class has done to us.

Reviews

[Naomi Montana Walsh]

You are really good with narrative I think you have talent as a writer. I found your story moved at a good pace and was easy to follow.

[Phibby Venable]

very talented to take something like this and make us realize its
importance. the writing is skillful and thought provoking.