08 March 2011

dreams and spanish

Today after school, I decided that napping was in my best interest. So, I walked the dogs and then the three of us curled up in bed for a while. I had the most awesomely hilarious dream. No lie.

Here was roughly how my dream played out:

I was in Spanish class, and we had our desks arranged in a circle or something, and I don't know what was going on, but I was sitting beside the girl who usually sits in front of me in my real-life-not-a-dream class. Everything was loud and she said something to me. I can't for the life of me remember what it was. And I said - rather loudly, so she could hear me of course - something like "YOU REALIZE IT'S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME UNTIL SHE REALIZES YOU'RE CHEATING RIGHT?!" Of course. As the room falls silent. The best part? This girl does cheat. Constantly. So the dream was certainly not a lie. But the room went silent, and the teacher gawked at us, and I was like "oh. Right. Sorry. Anyway..." Which somehow led to the girl eventually being kicked out of the class, and the teacher getting onto ME about "if you knew she was cheating, why didn't you tell me before?"

I actually woke up snickering a little bit. No joke.

So, here is my dilemma: is it my business to turn someone in for cheating? Her cheating doesn't affect my grade in any way. In fact, my average in that class is a very high A, and even with cheating, she is lucky to pull off a C (she's either REALLY DUMB, or REALLY BAD at cheating). So it's not like there's some curve and my grade is being adversely affected or anything. But it makes me angry. Especially when days like today, she asked me a question about a person we are studying about and I told her the answer. When the teacher asked the question later, to see who was paying attention, she raised her hand and flaunted the fact that she knew. Yes. You knew. Because I told you five seconds ago. Good job, though.

I think I might be an absolute horrible bitch, and give her totally wrong answers to things. Like, way wrong. Like, when she asks who Jose Marti was, I'll tell her that she was a Mexican painter, who had his foot chopped off in a farming accident. I'll make it ridiculously believable too. And then I will pee myself laughing when she fails a test because she is a jackass.

But then, I'm not THAT mean. I should be. But I'm not.

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