豊田市 - pt III - Bad

It seems I found some more time to put pencil to paper for some old-fashioned transcription, so long as it's not completely shite, that is.

Irritatingly, I've had a whole bunch of quality and reasonably profound thoughts of late (no, really), but for some unknown reason (Editor's note: unknown, my arse. I'm a lazy and often stupid twat) I've completely failed to make note of them. Stupid fucker. I think not being able to swear during my usual daily discourse is going to give me a haemorrhage at some point. The fucking cunts.

The temperature is starting to become unbearable. 'It's not even that hot yet' as people never seem to stop or tire of telling me. Fuck that. The heat and the humidity today have been completely fucking oppressive.

I should probably enlighten a bit on the last however long it's been. Students (that is to say schoolkids) really do make me laugh. Those that consider themselves to be 'bad', boys mostly, suffer from massive and substantial delusions of delinquency. Here, being rude generally consists of using the impolite form of a word, or dropping the honorific '-sensei' suffix when addressing or asking about a teacher, to name a couple of examples.
When I was in the third year of secondary school, I made it a personal mission to psychologically destroy one of my teachers because they were foolish enough to exhibit weakness before us. As age takes its inevitable toll, some of the finer details elude me, but what does spring to mind are the times I convinced the entire class to refuse to take off our jackets or unpack our bags. Each time she told us to take them off and unpack, we just sat there silently as she got visibly more distressed and wound up to the point of actually screaming "YOU WILL TAKE THEM OFF !!" and running from the room (I'm quite sure she was crying), invariably to go and get the deputy head - a maleficent shrew of a wench who we weren't so foolish as to fuck with - during which time we naturally unpacked our bags, took out our books and sat patiently awaiting her return looking ready to learn.
To me, being bad was waging campaign of sustained psychological warfare against a smaller and weaker opponent who was ill-equipped to deal with such an onslaught. I guess that makes me a westerner.

But I went to one of the better schools in shitbridge. Even saying so, a pleasing number of my peers became crack-addled teenage parents or guests of Her Majesty, or often all of the above. It's not schadenfreude to take rapturous delight in the fate of the malcontents that made my life an absolute misery for years, oh no, it's sweet, sweet vindication, for their fate could not be any more deserving. Quadriplegia notwithstanding.

To make myself feel better during that time, I used to tell myself the same thing: 'these are the best days of their lives'. And even during the darker times, for a fraction of a second, that used to put a smile on my face.

This allows me to paraphrase a dear friend's 'Three Rs' - reading, rebellion and revenge. I substituted 'writing' for 'rebellion'. It's never sat well with me, referring to writing as an 'R'. Arithmetic is just mind-bogglingly retarded and can go and fuck itself.

People on my estate went to either of the two closer schools which were decidedly more violent. For example, more than one teacher got stabbed I recall. So when the kids here think they're being bad by speaking out of turn, speaking in a 'funny' voice or using an incorrect syntactical suffix, I can't help but think about how they have little to zero understanding of even the meaning of 'bad' let alone even remotely coming close to being bad themselves. Hahahaha. Smashing windows, starting fires, swearing at teachers, setting off fire alarms, general violence and destruction... these little shites don't have a frickin' clue.

I should probably offer some discourse on the idea of 'school spirit', previously an altogether absurd and nebulous concept, only existing in inane imported US TV.

And frankly, that's where it should stay.