It’s been a long year of school. Countless hours put into completely repetitive worksheets. Innumerable lectures heard by the mind-numbing droning of my teachers. Several painstaking projects requiring a few nights where I did not sleep. Not to mention quiz after quiz after quiz after test after test after exam after exam. God, I’ll miss it.

The day I walked into Brenda Kahn’s room, a maelstrom of fear and apprehension surronded me. I had, like many others, spent the whole day waiting in fear--Ms. Kahn was allegedly a good ten times harder than the other AP Lang teacher, Ms. Dibler, and just like her alleged Mongolian ancestry she thirsted for the blood of her beautiful, succulent students (namely moi). I proceeded to take a seat near the back of the room, to avoid the death glares that purportedly occur as a matter of daily business within the Kingdom Kahn.