Let’s start the week by telling you about our Arts teacher: Mrs Williams. I think she is everything a man could wish for when it comes to looks. Mind you, she is far from my type. She has this long, blonde hair that dances in the wind. Ruby red lips, a slim figure and she is way too feminine for me, if you know what I mean (and I hope you do, because that is all I am going to say about it).
I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I am going to do it anyways. Mrs Williams, as you’ll know, is married and has been for at least five or six years. It has been rumoured, though, that she was or has been seeing Mr Owen. Now Mr Owen is, as far as I know, a happy single – I couldn’t think of any girl who’d want to marry a man like him if I wanted to – and so he can do as he pleases. Mrs Owen on the other hand should know better. I hope they were, as I said, just rumours. I have never seen anything or heard anything first hand.
Besides the above, it’s also been rumoured that she likes to flirt with pupils a little bit. Of course, if that were true, my guess is those kids would never file a complaint about it. Most of the kids think Mrs Williams looks ‘hot’. I have another name for it, but I can’t use it, because Mum says it’s kind of a rude word. Why would a teacher want to flirt with a pupil? Has she got issues or anything? She needs a psychiatrist even more than I do.
From the looks of things, I think she is doing a terrible job as an arts teacher. Most drawings found on toilet doors and walls can hardly be called art and look nothing like any assignment Mrs Williams has ever given us. I am not saying I am the next Da Vinci, but these boys at school – I can’t say anything about the girls as I have never seen their toilet doors and walls – usually draw the same kinds of things and they are still extremely bad at it. What kind of girl would fall for a guy who makes those kinds of drawings? If they were to walk into the boys’ room, would they say something like,’ Oh, yes, I definitely like this one, gimme the guy who drew this, this is a true work of art and I must meet the maker!’ I dunno, they’re not, what you call, a genuine Banksy.
Talking about drawings, I made my first more or less realistic drawing of myself today. It is far from perfect, but it was my first try and I guess it’s quite all right. If I won’t become a famous writer, I might always become a famous artist. I don’t know whether I should show Mrs Williams my drawing. What if she starts flirting with me, too? I wouldn’t know where to look, if you know what I mean. That’s it, I’m off. See me tomorrow.