The first thing that happened today was that in the middle of class, the literature teacher asked everyone to quiet down, and then asked me, “Colin. Have you been humiliated today?”

I couldn’t say I had been, before that point, but now I’m not so sure any more, because the reason why she asked that was to get the class to stand up and sing for me. I mean, these are people I have to work with for another few months, and these are people that couldn’t sing if their lives depended on it.

But sang they did, and now they’re going to think it was all my fault that they had to, and they’re going to de-friend me on the social networks, and they’re going to have to employ psychologists and psychiatrists to wash away the terrible memory of when they had to sing for me.

And from there it got worse.

***

Ben hasn’t been able to look at me without falling into hysterical giggles, and then point out the less than stellar performance on the Rugby field yesterday. “But you’re one of those,” he says. “You like having blokes on top of you”. This is the sort of jargon I have to put up with from my friends, and now the jargon is extra barbed because yesterday was all about ‘let us teach that artsy geek a lesson about Rugby’.

He even wrote a poem about me, and those incidents. A naughty limerick called ‘Eighteen’ in three stanzas that he read out loud during a break. It made everyone laugh out loud. They didn’t point fingers, but I could see that they wanted to.

So, yes, it got worse after the singing. It’s lunch now, though, and I am thinking about hiding for the rest of the day. I don’t know what’s going to happen ahead. I fear the worst, particularly when Mark comes to fetch me in the car because we have to go have that dinner with my parents, auntie, and Mark’s parents at the restaurant. I think I saw a gleam of mischief in his eyes this morning. I fear the worst.

***

On this my birthday, they also gave me a report card. I suppose they wanted to balance things. With all the positives going on, they had to make sure to give me a ‘memento mori’ moment by giving me a report card.

On a scale of 1-6, where 6 is terrible and one is terrific, I got: Academic skill, 1; Behaviour, 2; Study motivation, 3; and Educational attainment, 1.

That’s all right, isn’t it? But I wonder why I got lower on behaviour. I haven’t been that bad, have I? Did I rage and romp during class? Did I call the teachers naughty names? I know why I got so low on study motivation, but that’s behind us now. Let’s not mention it more.

Unlike before, I don’t have to get my parents signature on the report. I suppose there is a benefit this day, after all.

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