Rage on the Page by Tari Xalyr

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SUMMARY: A shor story written after a maths test. . . exxagerated version of real events

"Now do you know what we call this?" She asked stabbing my page with her pen. I stared down blankly at my page long introduction. She didn't really expect me to answer her but asking the question knowing I couldn't answer without saying something wrong must have given her a good power trip. She stabbed my page again "Rage-on-the-page" she pronounced each word clearly and directly to me. "We've gone from one extreme to the other." she stated bluntly "And I'm not impressed." I lifted my gaze to level with hers. I was not going to be beaten by the old bird. She held the gaze in return, her beady blue eyes scouting out any slight movement, a blink, a twitch of my nose, but I didn't give her that satisfaction and returned her gaze emotionlessly.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she turned and began addressing the class, lecturing us about her disappointment that such good ideas could not be argued properly. I stared back at my page, skimming my eyes down to the end of the introduction. You know writing essays is not easy. I mean, firstly you need an opinion on whatever you're supposed to be arguing about. How on earth do you get an opinion related to seventeenth-century poetry? And then how do you relate that to issues in today's society that people might think of as ‘insignificant?' Sure the poem is about religion which in itself is not one of the most enlightening and brilliant topics in the world to discuss and a lot of people today DO consider it as "insignificant." A ridiculous question deserves a ridiculous answer.

Forty five minutes is NOT long enough to realise an argument, pick a side and debate it thoroughly. People do not appreciate the skills a student needs to develop to come up with top mark arguments in under an hour. Actually a lot of people don't respect student at all. Let alone teenagers! Society categorises us as those young "troublemakers" who go out EVERY weekend, get crazily drunk, have drag races up the freeway, and spray paint thinks like "Howard is Gay!" all over public property. A majority of us are NOT like that! We like hanging out with friends, seeing movies and eating take out. Doing "normal" everyday things. We don't live any heightened reality that's displayed on the news every once in a while. NO! society is just a destructive bunch of psychobabble by nobody's whom people raise up onto soap boxes with a megaphone in one hand and a list of random things in another to dictate to people every though and action they are suppose to take! INSANE!

"You're getting much better you know." I put my pen down at the sound of the old bird over my shoulder. "But you have a point, from what I can see." I nearly fainted from pure shock. The old bird was agreeing with me! I turned to look at her. I could feel all other eyes on us as she spoke to me. "Would you mind?" she gestured at my page of writing. I shook my head slowly and handed it up to her. Her beady blue eyes scanned the page briefly and she handed it back. I swore I saw a smile play lightly across her face. "Besides my pen indenting your page violently, and the note on the power trip - which I suggest you edit out - I'd recommend it to this competition." She handed me an entry form, as the bell rang and she returned to address the class. I quickly shut my mouth, which I realised had been open the whole time and began packing up my things.