The witch who stole english!
Ok recently my fav english teacher left due to pregnancy and we got a rlly crappy sub. We had to re-write a christmas story in a clever manner, i choose the grinch and chnaged it a little. This is a rough draft but it stays within her guidelines while making my point. For those of you who will tell me its ignorant, well you'd have to meet her.
Enjoy it:
btw: cprog messed up some of the formatting, and heywood was my old teachers last name.
Every student down in Heywood Ville liked English a lot, but the witch that would soon be their teacher, would make them not. The students hated the witch, the witch’s entire being! Now please don’t ask why, the reasons we have would surely force her to cry. It could be perhaps, that her head isn’t screwed on right, or it could be her pants are way too tight. But it seems the most likely reason of all, is her brain is just about two sizes too small.
But whatever the reason, her pants or her brain, she stood there in front of the class, being hated by the students, staring down on them with her face in a strain. For she knew every student down in Heywood Ville was thinking, plotting, hating her with all they had, if she had a heart, it may have made her sad. “They’re plotting against me”, she said with a sneer, “I can feel the mutiny, it’s practically here!”
For soon, she knew, they would all fight back. They’d yell and they’d scream; they knew they were right, they’d rebel and defend, and fight in unity to bring upon her end. Then the students, both anxious and bold, would stand and fight. And they would fight. And fight!
They would fight against quizzes, they would fight against test, they would fight against her for it is her that they more then detest! Then the students would do what the witch liked least, they would all stand together to point out her flaws, they would dig into her with they’re long, sharp claws!
The more the witch thought of this, the angrier she became, she thought to herself “I must stop this from coming; I must give them more work! Yes more work that is the key, if it’s the last thing they do they will respect me!”
…BUT HOW?
The thought perplexed the witch, forced her to ponder, and it wasn’t long before her mind started to wander. “I could do this or that, I could do that or this, it has to be good, they truly must be ........ed!” the witch exclaimed.
Then she had a thought! She had an awful thought! The witch had a wonderful, awful thought!
“I know!” she screamed, “It’s exactly my sort of trick, I’ll assign a five page report, they shall really think me a prick! All I need is a theme, something truly evil it must seem…I know, I’ll make them do a Christmas story, I will watch them all squirm as I relish in my glory!”
The witch hurriedly ran to her computer, rich with her sinister idea. “I’ll force them to like me, I’ll force them to see, they’ll forget all about Heywood, as she surely knew they would!” The witch’s fingers flew across the keys like a graceful figure skater on newly frozen ice. With each stroke she became more enticed to continue, with each key press she became a little more evil.
The witch cackled and laughed, happy with her ploy, for it was in the student’s pain she would find joy. She was horrid and angry, anxious to force upon the students the fear she felt they’re pure hearts deserved. She wanted to seem them tremble, squirm restlessly in the chairs that would be they’re chariots into the gates of her hell.
“The students shall feel my desire, from this moment forth they will burn in the fire of my hell, from the scream of the bell till the last seconds of class, they will toil beneath me, and they will be forced to kiss my ass.” the witch beckoned to herself.
The night fell dark, the cold breeze of the wind sending shivers down the spines of all whom were the victims of its icy grip. All of the students in Heywood Ville felt a stab of tension, for they somehow knew, tomorrow was going to bring upon something none of them expected….something, truly evil.
The witch stood before the class, a class that would never be hers. She wanted more then anything to be the cause of the students stress and heartache. There was a challenge for her however; for it was the student’s loyalty to Heywood she was unable to break. The loyalty was of a caliber she had never seen before, they loved they’re old teacher, and she was losing grip on them because of it.
“I realize, class, that today is the last day before Christmas break. Now you have almost two full weeks off, so I think you need some work to do over the break. I am assigning a five page paper due on the Monday after your return. The papers I am passing out indicate the criteria that you must meet when writing the paper.” The witch announced with much pleasure.
The class exploded in anger and rejection to her authority. The students refused and yelled; making their dislike of her and her ways known. It was the witch they hated, it was her they despised, and if you looked a bit closer you could see it in their eyes. The students loathed the witch’s entire soul, they wanted her gone. Who was she to do this to them, who was she to act like Heywood?
This witch would never be their teacher; she could never fill those shoes! Heywood was the best thing to ever happen to English, this witch isn’t her and never could be, if we can clearly see this, why can’t she?
The class took the assignment with hesitation, hatred the common emotion in their Heywood devoted minds. The witch was stealing their hopes, their dreams, goals, and their true loves! Everything they have come to love and embrace was being ripped from them like candy from an innocent child!
The break came and went, without a drop of time on this paper spent. Every student in Heywood Ville was feeling the need to conform, the need to do this paper they so dread to embrace. The students of Heywood Ville all sat down to their keyboards and began to pump out the sad excuse for a English paper.
There was one student in particular who caught my attention however; Heywood Ville’s own little Steve Billington. You see Billington hates the witch more than any other student, possibly more than anyone else in existence. It was Heywood, who got him to write with his true ability, and it was that bond, and only that bond, that kept him interested in English.
“How to write this paper?” thought Steve to himself, “I need a powerful topic, something that will grasp the attention of anyone who reads it, but to leave a striking point behind afterwards. I know exactly what I will do; I will write this paper with a theme the witch can relate too, yes that’s exactly how I will write it!”
So Steve began on his paper, intent on making his point loud and clear, and if we stay around a bit longer, we may just see how it ends.
To be continued….
