I hate that class. You know that dreaded class at the end of the hall? That class that everyone waits for the bell to ring right after they go in? It’s that class. The class everyone sulks about before slumping into those blue plastic chairs, the class everyone wishes they could sleep through. Yup. It’s that class. It’s his class. His horrible, hated class. Yes, I know I chose that class. Yes, I know I could drop out. But, AP classes are the lifeline of a great GPA… Well, that is if you have a good grade in the class… Me, on the other hand… The class goes the same every day: I drop my stained, white backpack and slide into the broken chair across the room from the door. My red notebook groans as I pull it out to place it onto the scratched, black desk. My pen screamed “screeeeech” as I scribble random facts across my blank page. The lights go off like a blink and I squint my eyes close to my notes, hoping I can see what I write. The lecture goes on for an eternity until the light beams into my pupils as it turns back on. Is it over? He calls out the front row to get chromebooks. I smelt trouble. I dreadfully logged on to the small computer as my test grinned while it waited for me. I opened it up to realize I hadn’t done the reading and had no notes. I hate that class.