By the first period I always thought I could tell what kind of day it would be. As we went over last night's homework I was hoping that I would have a weekend free from homework and projects. I know that projects are given ahead of time so that we can do them before the last minute. But let's face it, the only way to do a project early is if you are forced to or you are bored out of your mind. As usual I had to do a project due not next Monday, but the Monday after that. I'd wait till next weekend to do it.

At the end of class our teacher told us we had to complete a brief section of questions. The questions were so easy that a five-year-old could do them. I thought it was that o.k. unless I had homework in other classes also.

I went to my next class where there was an assignment on the board for the weekend. It was an hour of math, at a fast pace. It seemed that my plans for the weekend were drifting away. I slouched in my chair for the entire class. All we did was to complete problems on the blackboard. Luckily, I was not chosen to do a problem, for I was in a dreadful mood.

Next class, Spanish: it was all Spanish day which means that only Spanish can be spoken for the entire class. I think that is aggravating. Instead of paying attention I doodled for the whole class. I drew cars and airplanes of the future. Yes, we did have homework for that class. It was to write a story in Spanish. OOOHHH fun!?!?

The homework began to stack up. It was like I had to peel all the potatoes in the world or was given a 50-year jail sentence. Homework on weeknights is not bad because you have nothing to do anyway, but homework on the weekend is unbearable.

I went to my second to last class, English, which gives the most homework of all. We were going to watch a short story film. One student said that he had seen it; I thought he must have exciting priorities at home. As I watched the show, I began to enjoy it. I felt good because I forgot all about my homework assignment. As the film ended, I thought that I would have no homework in this class. But as the credits began to roll, my classmates began to leave the room, my teacher said that we had a two-page essay on how we felt about this film (or something like that). I felt like I had been given a prize and then had it taken away. My weekend was doomed. Homework, homework, homework.

As I entered my social studies class, I began to sulk. If anyone dared to talk to me, I'd snap at them like a furious tiger. I was somewhat relieved when I discovered I had no homework for this class. What seemed like ages of reviewing the Revolutionary War ended when the bell rang.

Everyone was dismissed, and I was going to have an weekend so bad it was like going to Siberia without a coat.n