#can you tell i'm still bitter about my grade 10 english teacher

[gay-jesus-probably]

Will you ever reveal your 911sona to us king (gender neutral)?

Anon, I would LOVE to. Tragically, the only documentation of the life and death of my 9/11sona existed entirely on maybe 3 sheets of paper, written a decade ago for two linked school assignments that at the time I found wildly embarrassing, and honestly kind of offensive; if grade 9 wasn't one of the major milestone years for Canadian education (PAT's, baby!), I would have refused to do the assignment entirely, as inventing fake victims to mourn in a very real and (then) somewhat recent tragedy felt extremely fucked up. And it's still fucked up, it's just also really funny that someone thought that was an appropriate school assignment.

Anyways, my point is, while all this is hilarious in hindsight, at the time I was genuinely ashamed to have done the assignment, and once it was over I wanted to stop thinking about it, because if I acknowledged how much I hated that teacher, I WOULD start shit, and that would tank my grade for the year. Language arts is a wildly subjective subject, and so if you piss off your English teacher, you're absolutely fucked, because that grudge WILL show in how they grade you. So as soon as the 9/11sona assignments were marked and returned, mine went directly into the trash as I tried to scrub the whole nightmare from my memory. The overall situation remains seared into my brain to this day, but the details of my 9/11sona have, unfortunately, been lost to time. It wasn't nearly as interesting as the concept implies though; I sure as hell wasn't feeling any sort of passion for the project, so I'm pretty sure my 9/11sona was literally just some generic guy working some generic office job in one of the towers.

...Though the real punchline to this side of the story is that after a whole miserable year of gritting my teeth and holding back arguments to put up with this awful english teacher to ensure she marked me fairly, all of it became even more infuriating when I wound up getting into the exact situation I had been afraid of, literally on the first day of grade 10 english. As in, it was my first class after lunch, and I got in there about ten minutes early because I was worried about getting lost. Before the bell rang to start class that day, my brand new english teacher had informed me to my face that I specifically would be singled out to be marked on a considerably harsher curve than anyone else in the class. She fucking meant it too, the whole semester, apart from multiple choice tests, every single one of my english assignments had a strict grade ceiling of 79%, I never made it into the 80+ range by her standards, which was the most infuriating possible way to lose what had, until that point, been a perfect record of always ending a school year with my english mark in the 90's. I put up with making a fucking 9/11sona to maintain that record, and then lost it the next year to a snap judgment one teacher made literally less than ten minutes after I walked into her classroom.

...But that's a story for a different time.