In elementary school, every day, I wake up at 7:20 in the morning, which after countless tests, is the latest possible time I can wake up, and still make it to my school on my bike providing minimal traffic, AND I have a minute to spare, although I really only need forty seconds.

Entering the school needs to have precise timing. I have perfected the art of seeming to be walking while actually power-walking. With this, it takes forty seconds, with some extra time to get a drink of water.

There are two teachers that teach fifth grade, and I start with one teacher that teaches science, math, and health. They are all taught by one teacher.

Around 10:40, the teacher stops whatever we are doing and tells us to pack up our backpack. I never do a complete pack-up, because I have two hands, one elbow, and two arms that can have things squished between them. The trade-off is, obviously, frequent dropping of my items.

I enter the second classroom through a door that connects. A teacher in this classroom teaches reading, writing, and social studies. Now, the people who are in this class for the morning will enter my morning class. The process is as smooth as can be, with many bumping and shoving through the one-meter wide door as five people orderly try to squeeze through the door at the same time.

At 12:30, we march into the lunch hall, where all fifth graders eat, get into the plate lunch line, buy food, and go back to designated tables. We can sit anywhere we like, but we are constricted to one table.

There are six tables laid out, although there are only four classes. The other two are “silent lunch” tables, for people who are naughty in the classroom, they are told to sit on the “silent lunch” table and understand why they were behaving like naughty little children.

Lunch is 30 minutes, and after we are done, we walk outside and sit down. The teachers wait for us to be quiet, and explain how we have just wasted 10 minutes of our precious 30 minutes. We walk around the school so we “get exercise”, because according to the teachers, all we do during recess is sit around and talk about things.

At 1:30, we line up and walk back into the school. We go back to the second class, and we spend the remainder of the day in this classroom, and at 2:10, we leave for an outclass period. Other than this time, lunch, recess, and the occasional restroom break, we stay in two classrooms.

Outclass is a time where we are “out of class”, as the name implies. I personally think that is a total fabrication, because instead of being in our class, we are in another class. We may not be in our own classes, but it is still considered a lie, although I am too lazy to file complaints.

We cycle through three outclass periods: PE, music, and art. PE is a time to run laps and be killed by a classmate who throws balls harder than cannons. Music is a time to bang on pianos and xylophones and make loud noises. Art is a time to destroy shirts and pants with red splotches and stick fingers together with glue.

Every day we go to one of these classes in the same order over and over again. Occasionally there is a schedule change, a day where school is released due to bad weather, and it is fun to watch teachers get confused as we go from one outclass to another, to hear “you don’t have this class”.

But now, this time is over! For I am entering middle school, a land of bliss, of good lunches like curly fries, of lots and lots of teachers, and of two-story buildings! The pure harmony and ecstasy of middle school! Being civilized people, not having to walk around with a backpack, it is just beautiful! Having a locker, oh, the pure joy!

In middle school, we wake up lazily, at 7:50 instead of back-breaking eye-squinting 7:20. Of course, the excitement dies down when people realize that it is the same feeling as waking up earlier, due to human nature.

I bike to school, and enter at 8:30. We sit in the commons area because teachers haven’t released us yet to go to our lockers. We talk about random things, and eavesdrop on other people’s conversations on random things.

At 8:40, the point where coming early is defeated, we are released. We angrily watch as we are dismissed by table as people who came in three seconds ago go first. And we stomp up to our lockers, stick our backpack in, take a few books, a binder, and a class-specific binder, and walk to class.

It is just my luck to be a 6^th grader and to have 7^th grade math. I feel so happy every time the teacher says, “I talked with all the other 7^th grade teachers, and you don’t have any homework from them, so here’s some extra math homework!” I feel especially happy whenever that happens. (I’m being sarcastic.)

The bell rings, we run as fast as we can without being caught to our lockers, grab books, bonk our heads on other people’s lockers, and get annoyed by people who (hee, hee) think it’s funny (hee, hee) to slam our locker (hee, hee) doors closed and (hee, hee) giggle madly.

Classes pass by in the same manner. My last three classes (PE, science, and theater) are downstairs, but we still have to go all the way upstairs to our lockers. People in the gym locker room walk around proclaiming who doesn’t use deodorant, 8^th graders “pat” our backs, and cause us to nearly choke.

At the end of the day, the bell rings, and the teacher screeches “VIP” to whoever happened to be standing at the time, regardless of what they were doing before. Sharpening a pencil, and having the bell rung is simply unlucky, because nobody cares. It’s fun to screech “VIP!” at other people unless the person being screeched at is you.

Our teacher says “VIP” means “Very Impatient Person”, which is incorrect, but her diagnosis of this word means that they are impatient and get to leave last. According to her, sharpening a pencil, cleaning off a desk, or organizing books is considered impatient. Oh, goodie.

We walk out by some people who are cursing each other to our bikes, ride home as fast as we can, and slam the door behind us. School’s finally over for the day. Now it’s homework time.

Isn’t middle school just so much better?