When the 6th Hour Bell Rings

I grudgingly walk towards my geometry class, every day. Well, except Wednesdays. Nevertheless, there is always the same feeling. "Wow! I'm having such a great day! Oh... math." I suddenly start to feel extremely dejected. There is nothing I can do but fake a grin. Math one of those things that discourages me from my dream of becoming a super hero. It's definitely my kryptonite.

Just to make me feel better, the school decided that they would put me in a class of people who are just as dumb as me and no friends. On the first day of school I decided that I would dissociate myself with the others. Instead of selecting one of the many desks in the class, I sat myself at a table designed for grading papers on the far edge of the room. It has been my designated spot since then. I don't care that the prissy blondes and pot-heads look at my like a loner. In fact, I prefer it.

As soon as I walk in the classroom my smile is wiped from my face and I get the feeling of defeat instantly. I plop down at my paper grading table and put in my headphones. I silently do my work, or at least try.

"Hello, math paper. Prepare to meet your maker!" I say in my head.
It replies "If the square root of x(y)lmnop 3243987 is seventy twenty 6.5^7 times q is 48539475839p, how many apples does Johnny have?"
"That's it! D:< ENOUGH OF YOUR MIND TRICKS!"

Math always wins the arguments :(