School is driving me crazy

Ah yes, school. That magical place where we spend 6 to 7 hours a day training for the real world by… sitting still, raising our hands to pee, and memorizing the mitochondria’s job for the 47th time.

Because obviously, when I’m out there adulting — paying bills, dealing with taxes, navigating existential dread — I’ll think, “Thank goodness I know the Pythagorean theorem!”

Homework? Oh, that’s just the cherry on top. After a full day of intense preparation for my future career as a professional chair-warmer, I get to go home and do more school. It’s like Netflix, but instead of binge-watching, you binge-suffer.

And let’s not forget the life skills we gain: how to walk in a straight line, how to ask permission to speak, and how to pretend to care about the French Revolution while your soul quietly evaporates.

Honestly, school is the best simulation of real life — if real life were a dystopian bureaucracy designed by people who think teenagers are robots with unlimited patience and zero emotional needs.

But hey, at least we get a diploma. That magical piece of paper that says, “You survived. Now go figure out everything we forgot to teach you.”