Insider's Guide to High School Journals The Tattoo

Life Under Construction, Part Four

— Fourth of a Series —

Wed., Sept. 23, 1998

Having your school remodeled has its ups and downs, but mostly it’s just a pain.

Some kids don’t mind it because it gives them an excuse to be a couple minutes late to class. Other times, I guess you could say that it’s good to have one of those all too frequent bangs shock you to attention when you’re drifting off during a boring lecture.

Personally, I can’t say either way, because I’m only a freshman and I haven’t experienced Central as a construction-free school, and it looks like I won’t be seeing it for awhile. Then again, I don’t appreciate starting my high school experience like this in the first place. It’s kind of hard to concentrate on what you’re doing when the noises above your head are so loud that you think the ceiling is going to fall on your head any minute, or better yet, when the noises make it sound like you’re being shot from the next room.

The thing that bothers me most, though, is that as a freshman by the time I get used to my classes, it’s time to move somewhere new. Even worse, since all the rooms are already filled, my classes are going to probably end up being in the auditorium of the cafeteria.

So, while by now I’m pretty much used to it, life under construction isn’t the greatest thing in the world, but in its defense I know eventually it will make our school even better, and it’s not the worst thing in the world either. We can all take an extra minute or two to get to class. So, as you’re taking that detour towards your next class, just think to yourself how nice the hallways of our schools will look once there aren’t any construction workers and debris everywhere.

— Suzanne Gregorczyk, freshman, Bristol Central High School

Wed., Sept. 23, 1998

Sitting in study hall, I’m trying to do my creative writing homework. In front of me sits a clean white sheet of paper, with the words “Where were you last night?”

Ready for my next line, and a good idea strikes. With my pen on the paper, the sound of saws and hammers then slam into my ears from down the hall.

“Last night I was right in the middle of a war zone.”

With the construction work going on, I can’t even get my homework done.

Every time I got a great idea the construction scrambled my wits about me, so I lost the idea.  So I slammed my notebook shut and spent the rest of the period trying to do my chemistry work.

— Leslie Marshall, junior, Bristol Eastern

Thursday, Sept. 24, 1998

Driver’s Ed. I was confirming in No.2 pencil that one should always come to a complete stop before turning right on red. “TRY TO REMEMBER WHAT YOU’VE LEARNED ABOUT ‘K-TURNS’!” yelled the teacher over a symphony of hammers, nails, and god knows just what else. “WHAT?!” We wailed back.

I had decided to kill them all, one by one, when suddenly it stopped. All of it. Silence. Through the wide gap just below the ceiling on the back wall, there came two voices:

“Hey, you know we went to Red Lobster last night?”

“No…what’dja have?”



“Yeah, chicken.”


“What? What’s wrong with chicken?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with chicken. I didn’t say nothing.”

“No, you didn’t SAY nothing, but….”

We all put down our pencils, looked around us, laughed because we thought that we might cry.

— Joe Wilbur, junior, Bristol Eastern

Thursday, Sept. 24, 1998

While sitting in Mr. McMahon’s English class, I was fully enraptured by the lecture he was giving us and actively taking notes (being the wonderful student that I am). When I looked down at my paper and prepared to take notes, I noticed a few little white specks of something on decorating my desk. After poking the suspicious substance a few times to be sure it wouldn’t spontaneously jump up and bite me, I shrugged and flicked it off my desk.
A short time later, one of those familiar loud bangs that you hear coming from down the hall echoed throughout the classroom, disturbing the attentive students trying to concentrate on their English assignment. Rather amused and slightly annoyed, I looked up at the ceiling, the general direction that the noise seemed to be coming from.
Just my luck. As I lifted my face up to the ceiling, a shower of little white flecks rained down like snowflakes onto my face and desk.
Great. The ceiling was falling on my head, and the rest of the day I got the honor of walking around looking as if I had a severe case of dandruff, all thanks to the lovely renovations.

— Jen Rajotte, freshman, Bristol Eastern