My Classroom is a Stage

My classmates are the actors.

And I am the prop.

Maybe the chair, the table... most probably the sofa. Where everyone's unwashed-jeans-clad arses sink into.

Why do I say "my classroom is a stage"?

Because there's always a little drama going on.
In the corner, in the centre, outside, inside.

Somebody's sick, somebody's drunk, somebody's been lighting up fags during break. Somebody's been sleeping around, somebody's been high, somebody's been something. Somebody's been over the line, somebody's pissed off, somebody's been pissed, somebody's been something.

It becomes a bit of a culture shock sometimes. The protective little bubble I used to live in, with a prim little circle of close friends -- has foreign objects prodding a little harder around the edges.

But you know what? I'm glad I met them all. My classmates. H1 is crazy, did you know that? We are a bunch of off-our-rockers nutters, and they all make me laugh. I am a part of H1, and since H1 is crazy, so am I.

To them, I'm an innocent, geeky goofball who doesn't know nuffink, but I understand. I understand that we're all from frighteningly different families and backgrounds, and by a stroke of fate we are put together in one classroom.

A stage where we can all learn from each other, and help where ever we can.

So... all this drama... it's really not much of make-believe.