Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Reasons Why Dexter Michaels
is the Actual Worst:
a wordy brain dump
When we signed up to be class advisors, he got the seniors.
I got the sophomores. This means he goes to prom, graduation, and the 12th-grade trip.
I’m in charge of campus beautification and trash pickup.
For the record, I believe cleanliness is important.
But I also really like pomp and circumstance. A lot.
I ran for faculty president last year, and I got more votes than Polly Warner, but Dexter still won against me. As a write-in candidate.
He thinks he’s better than everyone just because he got his master’s degree in education after a double major in kinesiology and exercise science.
And okay, yes, he’s never said he’s better than everyone out loud, but I can just tell he thinks it.
The superiority complex wafts off him like cheap cologne.
Dexter hosts the Gamers Club every week, and there’s standing room only in his class. The kids all love him. I host Future Ornithologists once a month. Three students usually meet me in the quad. Only two of them bring binoculars.
The year Mr. Wilford nominated us both for Teacher of the Year, the district chose Dexter to win. No one was surprised.
When I was named performing arts director, I became the second-youngest teacher to be given a director’s position at our school. The first-youngest was Mr. Master’s Degree. Naturally.
Every spring, the yearbook committee awards Dexter the Most Popular Teacher superlative. I get Most Likely to Bring a Clipboard to the Party. Which is true. But I can be fun too.
Dexter came to Stony Peak six years ago, which is twice as long as I’ve been here. That’s not his fault, but this is supposed to be a brain dump. So yeah. I hate that.
I’m pretty sure Loren secretly likes him.
Everybody else likes Dexter, too. And he doesn’t even try.
PS: Your single-subject teaching credential, clipboard collection, and binoculars are still pretty cool, Sayla.