On Friday mornings, I roll about lazily in my warm bed. Five more minutes, I tell myself, eyes closed, as I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock. Of course, five minutes turns into ten which turns into twenty which turns into half an hour. I can’t help it; after a whole week of getting up early, my body just wants to go back to sleep. I dash out the door and pray that I make it to French class on time, lest I receive another look from my teacher for being late.
Second period is history. I love my class, despite the changes that had to be made to my timetable to accommodate the course. Not only is my teacher awesome, but history is one of my better subjects. But as the seconds tick into minutes and there’s twenty minutes of class left, I can’t help but look forward to lunch.
During my lunch period, I eat and I hang out with some friends who I rarely see otherwise. As the bell rings, signalling the end of third period, I get up reluctantly and head to my fourth period class, math. This year, I have a good math teacher, and although I sit near my friends, who can’t seem to keep quiet, my grade percent has gone up about ten percent.
Then I go to photography class. I feel pretty ambivalent about photography class. On the days that I shoot a good roll and end up with pictures that look great and are processed correctly, I love photography class and can’t wait to get into the darkroom. But then there are those off days I can’t seem to manipulate my contrast filters properly to produce a correctly exposed photo.
After last period ends, I stow my photos, still wet from chemicals, away in my locker and grab my gym clothes from a friend’s locker (which I wouldn’t have to borrow if our lockers weren’t only 8-inches wide). I change quickly and dash to the fitness room, hoping that I’m not too late for dragonboat practice.
I don’t stay for the whole practice though. At 4:30PM, I leave and change back into my day clothes. I shove my bag back into my friend’s locker and grab a black backpack containing my George Brown Uniform, a baking scale, and various other kitchen tools. Exhausted and starving, I drop by a Second Cup and buy an overpriced sandwich on my way to the subway station. I board the train and then a couple stops later, I hop out and wait for my best friend Jenny to meet me. Then we take the subway together down to George Brown College, where we have just started a new baking course. This time, we’re doing breads.
I love bread, but only when it’s still warm from the oven. Store-bought bread is convenient, yes, but I crave the freshness and taste of homemade bread. So far, we’ve made plain white bread, butter-crusted bread, and French sticks (which are basically like baguettes) and I have to say that I’m really enjoying this course. The best part is the hands-on experience of working with the dough. It’s just so... soft and squishy and pudgy.
After the class is over, Jenny and I take the subway back home. By the time I get off at my stop, it's eleven o'clock and I'm starving, despite the rolls that I had probably eaten during class. As the reward for getting through the long day, I drop by my favourite sushi place and treat myself to a dynamite roll.