Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Ahh yes, Back To School. More stressful than last minute christmas shopping. But with better sweaters. Usually, for me, back to school is a mixture of "oh my god, routine change", "oh my god, I look horrible" and "oh my god, I can't wait to get out of the house".

But this year, things are different. I'm only experiencing the first symptom of Septemberitis (I know its August, bear with me here). Let me explain it to you the way I explained it to my father: The Tony Hamilton School's motto is "a school's not a place; it's people", so if these are no longer my people. Does this mean it's no longer my place? 

The answer, in case you haven't guess by now is yes. A resounding, whole-hearted yes. It's not that I hate the school...well, some parts I do. In effect, I hate the few things that you really can't hate if you want to enjoy a school.
Things I (strongly) Dislike About The Tony Hamilton School

1. The headmistress. My headmistress, sweet and good intentioned as she is, is one of those people (much like her son) that must be weird. She feels as though she must be eccentric and odd; at that schools its like a competition to see who can be the weirdest. And she has a highly spastic teaching style.
2. The headmistresses son. He's one of those "I have to be more fabulous, better dressed, more outrageous and make more obscure references that highlights my unique upbringing" than anyone in the room. He's also entirely wishy-washy, he's always telling me to not be my mother (another one of his favorite past-times, mocking/cracking jokes about my mother; he seems to have inherited it from his mother) and telling me that I "shouldn't be a victim of my environment [my mother]" Which is absolutely hilarious considering he is his mother, except perkier and more frequently hung over at work.
3. The means by which the school functions. The school functions (by functions I mean gets paperwork done, plans assignments ect.) by either wild coincidence or mistake. Which means that it is a) totally unpredictable and b) totally unprofessional. The latter I can handle, but the former I cannot. They do manage to function that way, but I need to have security; I need to know whats going on. That is not one of the services that they offer.
4. Their idea that they can take liberties with my (and other's) anxiety/depression/aspergers. For example, this summer I went to a school run summer-camp. They told us to bring an extra T-shirt, because we were climbing a mountian. So I asked what kind of shirt, and the counselor Eliza, could not give me a straight answer. So, left on my own to make this desicion I tried on six or seven T-shirts becoming increasing anxious and tactile defensive. I broke down, didn't bring a T-shirt. (That camp was a complete travesty. I don't know where they got off thinking they could run a camp if they couldn't even handle a school but that's a blog post for another day). They think they know me, and so the treat me the way they think will help me not have problems anymore. But they don't know "real me".

That said, outside what I don't like about that school, it has not failed me. Exactly the opposite really; it's worked so well that I no longer need it. Now all that's left to do is convince them of that. The headmistress told me she thought I was being an "imbicile, moron and republican" for even thinking that there was a better place for me.

She really ought to let that be my burden to bear.

(I meant to quote some David Bowie lyrics to tie into the title, but I guess I remembered some of the lyrics wrong...so it doesn't quite fit).