If she had it all

Entwined Beliefs

The teachers often integrated their teaching with their belief system, which often made a lot of people question themselves when it came to their future. It wasn't their place to do so, but because of this, it made many generations just like the last. After being called dumb by all my teachers, I was pretty low on morale. My parents, of course, took advantage of my absence at home to clean my room out and replace my LGBTQ+ flag with a confederate flag, replacing the theme of my room with a bright pink and putting a poster on the wall that said "I'm a proud American who voted for Trump!" I was pissed, but there was simply nothing I could do. Their house, their rules. That's what mom would always say.

At this point, I've given up on trying to find common ground with my parents, only because they have entirely opposing viewpoints when it comes to them and me. We get along sometimes, but it eventually ends up with an argument over whether Ron DeSantis should have become president or something else that has no place for a child to debate. In late afternoons, Dad goes out to drink liquor and smoke. Those packs that he buys cost $50, but he still complains when I ask for food. "Even I don't buy food for $10! That's outrageous!" He would always say.

Unfortunately for me, my teachers were carbon copies of my parents. Government this, taxes that, you get the gist. But one was different. My art teacher, Mrs. Taylor, actually followed the rules and taught the curriculum rather than going on for half the class about how much they got back on social security. She'd always say that we were, "Entitled to our own beliefs," and that we could, "Dictate our choices and ideals." Of course, everyone else thought it was just more yapping. I thought she was different. I thought she had a lot more common sense than the majority of the teachers here.

I guess that the teachers being copies of my parents wasn't the worst part. What was, however, was the gym instructor. He was a pervert. He Always watched the girls run and stared when their shirts showed just a bit of cleavage. So, I'd put on a brace to make sure he wasn't looking at me. This made my mom angry, as it was, "Hiding my Femininity." Even when I told her what the coach was doing, she just excused it as, "Men being men," and that I'd, "Get it when I'm older."

At the end of the day, my math teacher sent me an email about a test, and how we better do it, or else we'd, "Fail this generation." Some kids took it seriously, others didn't care. I, however, just wished that all of the people I knew didn't have somewhat entwined belief systems.