IB Lunch

IB kids at my school have a tradition that dates at least three years back. Our cafeteria is tiny, so most kids eat outside under The Ramada, a bunch of picnic tables under a big metal shade. One table on the farthest corner has been claimed as The IB Senior Table. The choice of location is incredibly strategic because 1.) it means that in the summer, half of the table is exposed to the sun and 2.) the “nerds” are easy to distinguish and throw things at. We may be the best and the brightest minds, but we tend to be ritually dumb creatures of habit when it comes to sitting at an awful table three years in a row.

The results of containing too many IB kids in an unstructured environment with food and regulars include fistfights, social experiments, iPod soap operas, violent discussions, rubix cube tournaments, and pointless “hypothetically…” conversations.
Yes, a couple of IB kids did get into a fight last year. I won’t go into details because I wasn’t there – but trust me, hearing about it secondhand was enough. Don’t throw French fries at IB kids. We will mess you up! Actually, please don’t sucker punch us. We don’t enjoy it.

Last year, there was a period of time when there was a fight at lunch every few days. Young adolescent behavior during a fight involves running around, standing up, and, most noticeably, yelling. Even if one cannot see the fight, one is obliged to yell “OOOHHH”. The purpose of this yelling is apparently to alert the administration so they can come stop the fight as soon as possible. There is no other result of the yelling and therefore no other plausible explanation. (it's nice that we have such an activist student body) One day, we were looking out over the regulars and their pathetic lunch tables devoid of TI-84 calculators (plugging them into each other for Tetris competitions is also popular). Someone commented about the “wave effect” that fight yelling has and we decided to stage a social experiment of sorts. Our table started yelling and within seconds the entire Ramada had picked it up – at which time we stopped and resumed eating our lunch/doing our homework. Everyone was yelling and half the kids were craning their necks around or standing up, trying to locate the altercation. Monitors and campus cops were running in every direction, walkie-talkies in hand, also trying to find it. It was a sobering lesson on mob mentality. But mostly it was hilarious watching everyone go crazy.
Yesterday was a typical IB lunch table experience.

The Ramada has structural support beams that criss-cross the entire underside. Pigeons like to sit on them. Think about what happens when you eat lunch at picnic tables under a pigeon parking lot. The other day, Tigre’s backpack was a casualty, so we were all extra-vigilant when it came to the pigeon situation. One decided to sit right above Roi, who scooted intimately close to Goa. Tigre talked about his vendetta against all feathered creatures while M threw bottle caps in an unsuccessful attempt to make the pigeon move. I clapped and yelled at it, which must have startled it, because right then, it pooped. Someone commented on how it hurts to be pooped on by a bird, a claim that was disputed. The physics kids proceeded to try and figure out how one would calculate the velocity of falling bird poop. I’m a bio kid who didn't feel that the current discussion enhanced my enjoyment of my taco, so I yelled at them to shut up. The discussion shifts to my opinion that paying for a sub when we have a student teacher every day is a waste of the school’s money. I comment that “a monkey could sub a class of IB kids”.
Rubix: If a monkey stuck a video in and told me to watch it, I’d watch that movie!
Me: No, Rubix, you’d watch the monkey.
Rubix: True. But if it left, then I’d watch!
Me: Are you joking? I’d follow the talking monkey!
Physics kid: We’d have to figure out a way to weigh it…
Me: Are we seriously still on this!?
Other physics kid: Just put a scale under the bird!
Me: Oh my gosh. Seriously.

Side note: SUPERCONGRATS to the National Merit semi-finalists! Yay for names on the marquee!

IB Movies (are boring)

If you guys have a couple of hours to kill – and you really want to kill those hours, not just maim or injure them – may I suggest a movie called Mind Walk by Fritjof Capra. I don’t really know if the “by” means he wrote it, or directed it, or whatever – but they are definitely “by” Mr. Capra. I own a few books by him (The Tao of Physics and The Turning Point that my dad gave me as hand-me-downs from his days in college) that I have read little bits of.

The movie takes place in France, but all three characters are Americans, causing the audience to question the exact point of the European setting other than a long and dreary hike through a swamp to an old castle haunted by a divorcee and her bratty daughter. It is about a politician (played by “That One Guy From Law & Order”), a poet (played by “The Dad From Home Alone, I Think, Isn’t He?”) and a physicist (played by “Who The Heck Recognizes This Lady?”). The physicist is an expatriate American who managed to pick up a very thick French accent in only a few years, possibly by living in a tourist-attraction castle with a torture chamber and a teenage girl. The poet also lives in France but sounds like any other American (he does not live in a castle). The politician lives in America and came to see his friend the poet after losing in the presidential primaries. He is emo, which may have something to do with the fact that the poet voice-overs his thoughts about the politician, and they are never very nice.

The entire movie is dialogue, with a few shots of an old clock and torture devices. The physicist spouts opinions while the politician is emo and the poet randomly says lines of poetry that the castle “gives him”, not participating in the discussion at all. It is possible he feels so unfavorably toward the politician coming to see him because after his wife left him (a pointless bit of exposition we got through – hey! – dialogue) he didn’t have to share the drugs with anyone. Except the lady he was in bed with at the beginning of the movie – apparently not his wife (unless they’re doing a Cox-and-Jordan thing)? Whoever she is, she makes his “waah I am divorced and lonely” crap seem kinda exaggerated.

As I write this, I have only seen the first hour of the movie. Twice. TOK Teacher had us watch it all period with a sub and then decided we should start it over so she could pause it and we could discuss it. I made an effort to pay attention the first day, but the second day I lay on the floor, used Duckie as a pillow, spaced out and accidentally kicked Monica/banged my head on her desk for an hour. (Monica is a very patient person when it comes to being kicked.)

The other great thing about this movie is the abundance of possible comparisons that can be made to Manos: The Hands of Fate, the worst movie in existence. (It is because I have seen this movie at least 10 times that I can sit through Mind Walk without stabbing myself or becoming comatose.) From the painfully dull dialogue in a car, to credits over bland landscape, to repetitive dialogue, to the obnoxious daughter, to a completely pointless young couple to rusty old torture devices – Mind Walk is what Manos would be if Hal Warren grew weed (“that’s deeeeeeep, man”) instead of sold fertilizer (“this STINKS, man!”). If you didn’t get this paragraph, go find Manos: The Hands of Fate and watch it – get the MST3K version unless you have a very high tolerance for suckage. It’s something every human should experience, no joke. I’m willing to lend it out to those of you who know me in real life.

I love my TOK class and my TOK teacher… this movie just sucks a lot. I think IB makes us watch awful movies (Inherit the Wind, anyone? dame el religion de tiempo viejo, era bueno para David pequeno!) to unite us in irritation and inside jokes. Because that unity is what gets us through the hard times. Speaking of hard times, I have to go fill out CAS sheets, senior reflection, Haverford application, and do hours of homework. You should go watch Manos.

IBureaucracy Paper

IB is a bureaucracy in the purest sense of the word, a fact that becomes more and more obvious the more enmeshed one becomes in the web of red tape, required steps, buzzwords and confusion (a large reason IB seniors grow so close to each other and their teachers… we’re essentially all hostages of the giant IBureaucracy). IB has the ability to take very good things and turn them into very bad things. It also has the ability to take very simple things and make them excessively complicated.

I am talking about paper. That thin, flat stuff made of dead ground up trees. Most non-IB outsiders (the equivalent of Hogwarts muggles; “normals” or “regulars” to us) have the luxury of taking paper for granted. IB kids, on the other hand, understand that paper is actually a life or death issue. It is yet another part of the painful burden of knowledge IB bestows upon us.
IB paper is an entirely different breed of paper. It’s all in Spanish, English, and French, for one thing. How can a paper be in languages? Because it has instructions on it. Why would paper need instructions? Because it is complex beyond the point that any piece of paper should ever be.

It’s a weird size. Why? I don’t think even the IBO knows. It just is. It’s bright white with blue lines on it, but very different from the white and blue looseleaf we’ve been using for the last twelve years, and it’s also somewhat smoother and thicker. IB elves in Switzerland make it out of mandrake roots. The lines are inside a rectangle set in the center of the paper, allowing for pristine margins which serve no purpose except to not be written in. Writing in the margins is against the rules. Apparently that’s part of the test, because if they really cared about not having written-in margins, they could have made the lines go much closer to the edges. Above the lined rectangle is the special section for putting your special secret IB information, like your candidate number, which is also presumably part of the test since they change it every year and give you barcode stickers for your papers anyway.

That’s right – IB kids have their own barcode stickers. If you’ve never had your own personal barcode sticker, it’s one of the strangest feelings ever. You know what has barcode labels? Cans of peas. And all those meaningless scraps of paper, parts of packaging and receipts that mean nothing to humans except “this is part of The System”. Then kids get bored and start sticking their extra stickers on their necks; which doesn’t really help the creepy factor.

And that’s just the paper for writing on. IB graph paper has green lines with a grid size roughly the same as that of a screen door. I’ve used it for a few math assignments and ended up giving up on scales and counting the little squares and decided to just eyeball the stupid thing and make a line that looked right. I’d be worried about how to graph on the exams but honestly, I have no idea how they expect anyone to grade it accurately. I bet they use the same “does it look kinda right? okay.” system we do. Or a microscope, in which case I’m screwed.

I know all this, not because IB is liberal with its paper distribution – blank papers enter the Test Center sealed in bulletproof plastic to prevent Contamination – but because our teachers make Xerox copies of the paper for us to use on tests so we can “get used to it” and not “be scared of it on the test”. When your paper is so bizarre that IB kids (who really aren't fazed by anything) have to be allowed to approach it slowly in a safe and familiar environment like new zoo animals – congratulations, you’re officially the most inane bureaucracy in existence.

To top it all off, IB, in its spirit of “internationalism”, decided that the best way to be “internationalistic” was to set an “international” standard, universally uniting every single IB school with something that nobody in any of the countries uses. (I guess it brings us together by giving us something to have in common – the fact that we all have no clue.) Instead of sending staplers to those few remaining staplerless countries (apparently Kyrgyzstan and Brazil are the last anti-stapler holdouts), they decided that everybody was going to attach multiple exam papers with things called “toggles”, made out of plastic and yarn, once again finding a way to make a very simple task as complicated and bizarre as possible. There is only one other historically documented use of “toggles” – some ancient bone ones were found in the tomb of young King Tut, possible evidence that he may have been the first IB student and also a clue regarding the cause of his early death.

Also this week: happy birthday to myself!

Angst. Angst. Angst.

I'm sorry. Last week, there was absolutely nothing funny about being in IB. Next Monday will be funnier, I promise. Have some quotes.

HT: Somoza invites Sandino over for a dinner conference -
Roi: They were going to TP Sacasa's house!

HT: Roosevelt said Sacasa was an "SOB"
Stealth*: What's that?
HT: ...son of a... gun...
Stealth: Ohhh, it's in Spanish, so it's "B" in Spanish! I get it.
Entire class: ???? /rofl
Me: Okay. Pick a nickname.

*New character! Stealth has been mentioned a few times - he's a member of the NADS and he's also the "jerk" from this entry. But he's also a pretty cool guy. Not sure what's up with the nickname he chose. I'm tempted to get Freudian on the 007-style nicknames the guys keep picking for each other. Also he's way smarter than this quote implies... usually.

Geo: Remember that one time we ate all that trail mix?
Roi: What one time?
Geo: That one time we ate trail mix!

Me: Exposition is like when in movies there's that old wizard and he's telling all the backstory about how there was a big battle and the elf died with his magic crystal and the fairy took his staff and stuck it in the stone and I'm combining nine stories right now...

IB Kids Use Their Powers For Evil

IB kids are intuitive, quick, and intelligent.

Sometimes we use our powers for evil.

HT is talking about the Monroe Doctrine when I accidentally knock everything on my desk to the floor. (You’ll notice most events in my life - or at least history class - center around my clumsiness.) The crash catches HT’s attention (and that of the entire class), so he decides to ask me to explain what the Roosevelt Corollary was. Some jerk says “Oh, that’s easy!” - except that I didn’t crack open a history book all summer. I have an idea but am not sure it's right; and I don't want to get it wrong after the remark and having just embarassed myself. I give Roi a quick wide-eyed “I don’t know!” look and she shrugs – she doesn’t remember either and can’t help me. I decide to try and buy some time by picking my stuff up off the floor. Roi takes the cue and runs with it. She mentions me falling out of my desk two days ago; somehow, HT managed to miss it. Roi is telling about that and how I fell off a chair at Meg’s house once. Now everyone is paying attention to her, laughing, and I’m on the floor looking up the Roosevelt Corollary in the textbook. I find it (turns out my original guess was right…), sit back in my desk – without falling! – and Roi immediately turns center stage back to me. I answer correctly, look smart, and HT continues with his lecture.

Muahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Quotes of the Week:

"Sushi is not vegetables."

"Sorry, I didn't hear you; my earlobes were in my ears."

"Are Jose and Josefina Schmo on their little farm going to modernize? No."

Announcement

School's three days in and already I've got a ton of material.
I plan to update this weekly, on Mondays. Let's see if I can keep it up.
Quotes of the week:
"Don't projectile things at me!"
"Go back to Ellis Island!"
"If the answer is 'the devil' and you wrote 'Christ', you are not 'close'!"
"Inside never gets any fights."

How I Managed To Embarass Myself The First Day Of School

Today was the first day of school. I'm so lucky this is my senior year, because if this stuff had happened the first day of freshman year, I probably would have dropped dead out simply of a strong desire to do so.
Major props to: 5, and all my other friends who love me despite my complete and utter awkwardness.

Period one: out of an almost hour long class period, I managed to drop and spill my purse during the only nanosecond of silence. Also, I had a book I borrowed from Monica (of SeekingZoe) and when she came in, I went to return it. I ran to the front of the room and yelled “Monica!” and threw out my arms to give her a hug. Except she didn’t hear me and walked over to talk to someone else, and the whole class was watching this because I’m loud.

Period two: Accidentally left my schedule in my locker and, when Bio Teacher asked to sign them, had to tell her I didn’t have it. Ten seconds after she said “If you guys don’t have yours… come on. You’re seniors, for crying out loud.” Oops. So then she made me lie on a desk and pretend to have passed out after sniffing sulphur so we could practice yelling CODE ONE! (don’t ask).

Period three: I don’t remember what Spanish Teacher said, but, I thought it was really funny. Too bad absolutely nobody else laughed.

Period four: Fell out of my desk. Seriously. I was sitting on one of my legs, and when I used the other one as leverage to get out of the desk, I slid off the seat and onto the floor. Also, accidentally reminded History Teacher of an incident last year I haven’t yet lived down.
IB kids have to do CAS hours - 50 each of Creativity, Action, and Service. One day at lunch I remarked that sex could be the ultimate CAS activity – there are opportunities to be creative, it’s definitely action, and depending on your partner, could also be service. (then)-Boyfriend thought it was hilarious. Hilarious enough to warrant sharing it with History Teacher (also the CAS coordinator) by saying “Hey! Sal has a question!” and repeating my joke. Even though Boyfriend said it, HT associates it with me, and brings it up way too often.
Today, he asked if any of us had done CAS over the summer, and Roi exaggeratedly turned to look at me, because I recently got busted when my mom called HT and found out I hadn’t done any paperwork for CAS yet. I whispered “You know what HT associated with CAS in my case. You just can’t do that or he’ll think we’re lesbians or something. You just can't do that.” But HT heard me and asked “What can’t she do?”
Me: Uh… join mock trial.
HT: Why not?
Me: Because she sucks?
Roi: Actually she said I can’t look at her when you mention CAS.
HT: Why not?
Lua (another girl who hangs out with 5): because remember the sex-for-CAS joke from last year?
HT: I had forgotten about that. Thanks.
Me: *headdesk*
(I’d like to note that I’m usually a much better liar than that and I’m pretty good with a quick, plausible answer to bail myself – or someone else – out of something pretty quickly. 5 will back me up on that.)
In retaliation, I threatened to give HT a “gift” of a poster-size print of a photo I have of Roi, where she looks absolutely HIDEOUS to the point of being almost deformed. It really is the worst photo of anyone I’ve ever seen.

Period five (lunch): I didn’t do anything, but Roi managed to get gum (the same piece) on the bottom of both her shoes, the top of one, and her toes. How, I really don’t know.

Period seven: I don’t remember what I was talking about, but Calc Teacher walked up at just the wrong moment. Twice.

Friend Promotion. Am I Internet-Important Enough To Do This Yet?

Everybody's doing it.

A good friend of mine (and fellow IBer) has her own blog now.
Seeking Zoe
I think between my irreverence and her deeper musings, together the two blogs are one of the best representations out there of what it really means to be IB. She has a lot of really interesting stuff to say, and despite the fact that I almost always play devil's advocate in my comments, I usually agree with most of what she says. But where's the fun in that? Check it out.

IB Kids Applaud Their Parents (thus creating awkwardness)

Sorry guys, this died a little over the summer. School starts in a week and hopefully senior year will provide lots of material.
The other night was the IB Meeting, which was boring except for the Moment Roi and I caused.

History Teacher: I introduce the next speaker, Mrs. Roi's Mom!
Me and Roi: *clapping and cheering*
Entire room: *silent*
Silence.
Me and Roi: *loud laughter*
Entire room: *silent*
Silence.
Mrs. Roi's Mom: ...I'm her mom.

1000BWC - Offensively Religious Version

IB kids have minds that may be mature in other areas, but when it comes down to it, we're all the same hormonal teenagers the rest of the world is so familiar with. We're just a little bit more esoterically-intellectual with our immaturity. (see "Ted Kennedy killed your mom"). Something we all find incredibly amusing is being as non-PC and offensive as we can possibly be at each other.

During the game, we had two Jews, one of whom is also a Christian, making 3 Christians, and two atheists, for a total of six smart, snarky players.

This card is terrible. It's terribly anti-Semitic, terribly offensive, and terribly funny. (Note the grammatical error.) And I'm Jewish. But, see, we kind of asked for it, since the other Jewish player made the following card:

I have no idea what the shark attack or speech bubble has to do with anything. I don't think he did either.

Note how both cards poking fun at the Jewish players contain spelling errors.

This is me teasing Tilapia, because he works at Starbucks and apparently there's a Bible study group that meets there at 4:30 in the morning, forcing them to actually open when they open.

Roi made this after getting tired of all the religious-themed cards.