Drunk in public usually ends up in fines, this time it ended with laughs.

I used to think skipping school was cool. It didn’t matter how you skipped school – whether it was by being a fake sick, or skiving – it was simply cool. The hours you would have spent bored at school were happily filled with a day of television and internet games or, if you had lots to do, catching up on any homework.

Since high school, or specifically the beginning of this year, I’ve started to sincerely hate skipping school. Skipping certain lessons is okay because, honestly, what’s the point of going to German (where the teacher doesn’t know your name –even after nine months)? French (where all you do is mess around and play with butterflies)? English (where you constantly check the wall behind you for gum, and then lean you chair against it, while making jokes about Oscar Wilde)? Math (where nothing happens, other than laughing at the teacher)? But staying at home for a whole day is usually pretty annoying because you miss so much – academically but also socially – and you don’t get outside at all. And fresh air ain’t so bad once in a while.

During your high school career, you often wonder why in the world you’re at school. Nine of ten times, you answer the question yourself: “for my buddies.” The tenth time, you answer “for my education.” Simply because your parents and teachers have brainwashed you into believing this.

“Why is she rambling on about this?” I can hear your cries for answers, beloved readers and I’d love to give the desired answers, but I don’t really have any. Other than that I want to ramble even more. About my day. Today.

Today was one of those days that you just don’t want to skip. And it was one of the days that “for my education” really is not an acceptable answer to any question concerning why you’re at school.

My day started with biology which wasn’t that interesting. Maybe because I was sitting all alone at the back. Math was up next which was highly amusing. We had two drunk kids in class. It’s hilarious to see them struggle with pens, sandwiches and chairs. They can’t open pens, they can’t eat and they can’t sit. Our next lesson was Dutch, with both drunks. The alcohol seemed to have taken its toll and one of the kids got rather sick. The lesson ended with a vomit-o-rama in the back row. Well, only one kid puked, but it came in numerous gushes. I was surprised the teacher never noticed. And I felt sorry for the class that had their lesson in that room the next period. Eventually (when the teacher was looking at the class and saw only disgusted faces, all staring at the floor in the back), the kid was caught and apparently brought home.Our response to the whole situation? We (and Marc) want to get Nienke drunk every night in Terschelling and at the school dance.