You know the students who are proud to perform free slave labor for their school? Hauling around the shit that teachers are too lazy to move themselves, hounding on people loitering in the halls, and snitching on any kid who breaks the rules? Whatever they're called at your school, apparently these kids show 'school-spirit.' I agree that this embodies the spirit of school perfectly - a bunch of sycophantic slaves ordering other slaves around.
I recall an incident from 9th grade, when I decided to not participate in something the
rest of the class was doing (line dancing) so I sat on a
bench and watched. This one guy comes up to me and says "go over there and participate." He didn't introduce himself and he didn't ask, but he commanded. Apparently, being a good student doesn't involve decent manners, so I responded the way I normally do towards disrespectful cunts, with disrespect of my own. I said, "who the hell are you?" He boasted that he was a 12th grader and part of the group that gets to order other students around. I chuckled sarcastically and didn't budge, so he walked off to bring a teacher (I didn't know line dancing was such a big deal). This teacher then grabs me by the arm and drags me into the mass of other students. I stood idly there for the rest of the period, with awkward 'dancing' teenagers around me, and that special student and teacher glaring. So what's the moral of this story?
I hate line dancing. That, and unlike other authority figures, students like the boy above don't even get payed. No, they're in it for the praise and power alone. Do these ass kissers ever wonder how other students feel, to be bossed around by their peers and tattled on? Do these rats feel no shame when they receive money for betraying their fellow youth? I would fight you 'good' students, one by one, just to see if your bravery matches the stunts you pull. If you're so superior, you should have no trouble beating unschooled punks like me.
If anyone ever tries pulling me anywhere again, I will knock their teeth down their throat, just like how I owe that scrawny nerd and his master a dozen beatings. Too bad nobody tries grabbing my arms these days, because they're now 16 inches around the bicep (and I have a crazy look in my eyes). So that's my advice to other stubborn bastards like me: be the wolf that puppies are too scared to mess with. The kids who were bossy in my school were insecure and weak on the street, because pets playing master only have nerve within sanctioned walls.