Oct 19, 2009
In High School I was that girl. The complete overachiever, over-involved, overly-caffeinated student. My freshman year of high school I joined a couple activities, took honors classes, and just lived life. Sophomore year got a little more serious. It climaxed my Junior year when I was doing 4 choirs, 3 bands, church stuff, theater, newspaper, yearbook, as well as my honors classes and all the homework that comes along with them.
By the end of that year I was a blooming MESS. I was so overworked and mega stressed that I decided I needed to cut some stuff out of my life.
Well, fast forward to my Senior Year and a particularly interesting summer (read: so. much. homework. ... and time away from my family)...we hit the first day of senior year. We get all the forms for our medical records, our permission slips, our agendas, syllabus-es, and we head home. So I fill out most of my stuff but hand my medical stuff to my mom to fill out -- she's good with that kind of stuff.
We all know my mom is my BFF, but she also had a terrific sense of humor. And one VERY similar to my own. And so she decides to give me a little humor in my stressful life.
So the first week of school goes by and all our forms are due. That next week, as I'm sitting in American Literature, the office calls down to my class and requests that I come see the principal. This elicits the standard "ooOOOoooooOOoooo" from my classmates (especially since I was kind of a goody two-shoes).
I head down to the office where the secretary asks me to sit down in front of the principal's door. I obviously do what I'm told...and sat down. In my mind I'm going over everything that's happened in the last week so that I can figure out why I'm in the office. I can't, for the life of me, figure out what I could have done/seen/known about that would bring me to the office.
The principal then opens her door, calls my name and motions for me to walk inside her office. As I walk in I see the nurse sitting in the office as well. Mrs. Angelini asks me to sit down and then grabs a piece of paper off her desk. When I look closer, I notice it's my medical form. At this point I'm worried I'd written something wrong, stupid, or that there was something seriously wrong with the results they'd gotten from the doctor.
None of these were the case.
My mother, in her hysterical wisdom, on the question labeled "educational limitations" my mother wrote: SELECTIVE HEARING.
I was called down to the principal's office to clarify what this meant ... or if it was actually true.
Which it ... probably is, to an extent.