When I hated my music teacher. It was so unfair. And I actually love music to this very day, a music person I would call myself.  She sent me to the principal’s office for blowing bubbles in music class on my birthday.  And I hated her. And this was before she was forced by a different principal to apologize to me in 7^th grade for saying I was “dressed like a whore”. But I hated her then, before. She was soooo unfair. How could she ruin music class for a young guiltless girl? This was when I was in 6^th grade still innocent and nerdish but beginning to burn and fume, beginning to fill with rage. And I got together with some other girls and we wrote her a note with bad words about what a bad teacher she was and then we were caught. It was humiliating being caught and made me hate her even more. Since Olivia came to live with us I’m burning up inside. At times calming down, burning embers become red, restless, resentment. Childishness inside me (hormonal 6^th grade girl) chiding this whole situation is soooo terribly unfair.

Though no one forces her to apologize. 

She is not my music teacher.

Is she still my teacher?

I cannot write a note with bad words in it.

Still, I’d like to.

Still,

I’m caught.