Can’t you find a way, in your heart, to forgive me? It was only one mistake, one moment of rebellion, and I didn’t quite understand why it happened the way it did. I understand you’re upset, but do you really have to give me detention?
God I hated detention. For once I didn’t even do anything wrong. The guy behind me threw something and the teacher, and guess who got blamed? Well yours truely of course. It was the tedium that got me, just watching that stupid clock tick my life away made me sick.
I had to stop and think of my next move. This game required we abide by the rules of the environment, regardless of how stupid they were. That was escapism, and authority was a luxury that an Anarchy seldom provided.
Crystal couldn’t believe it. This was the fourth time in a row that Mrs. Prehistoric (actually Mrs. Presley, but the T-rex arms and the scaly skin said otherwise) had given her detention, all for giving her a “bad look.” Delinquent? Her? It was ridiculous. She just wanted to read her Thoreau and Emerson and whoever and get the Hell out of the way of everyone else.
Detention is the most counterproductive punishment ever. You are bad, so they lock you up in a room full of kids just as bad. All you do is get ideas for future misbehavior.
He walked through the long room looking at the floor. None of the men knew him, but they gave him looks that said “I’ll get you. Just give me a few days.” Like everyone else, he had no reason to be here. He was innocent. They all were. It just wasn’t the type of innocence most people recognize.
then we could say “i think its time for you to detension.”
or “you are detensionate.”
or “you are in need of detensioning.”
we could detension one-another.
i think that sounds nice.
Sigh. Detention, also known as my afternoon activity. I’ve never understood the point of detention: You’ve done something wrong so as punishment you’ll spend an extra hour in the place you go 8 hours out of your day. Clever. Really clever.
The girl sat in the corner of the room, staring up at the clock occasionally as she wrote down the same line over and over again. “I will not text in class. I will not text in class.” She had been caught for the third time this week, and it was the only punishment that the school could find to hopefully drive the message home
Detention?? Again?
Well, i guess it wasn’t really a choice….But
Who is that guy?
You are the reason i’ve been sent here
You are the reason I smiled
You are the idea that still haunts me, thank god i’ve been sent to detention
Stopping. A period of nothingness as punishment. A detention of the body is bearable, but of the mind? I can’t. I hate that feeling. But mostly, honestly, I hate when I do it to myself. I deserve better than me sometimes.
I remember those days, when i went to school, and got into detention, those were the happiest days of my life, even though they seemed to be the worst.. Life is sad, earth is a sad place to be. I can’t sleep tonight….Help me???
Detention is a funny thing. Some people enjoy the feeling of “bad assness” that comes with being there. Some hate it so much. Some are not even meant to be there, but have simply been in an unfortunate spot at the wrong time.
She wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming day at school. But detention always had its perks. No listening to teachers droll on about dates in time and equations she would never need to know. Detention meant silence. That was something she always liked about school.
What else could I have done? I could see the word looming over my head. Detention. What would my parents think? I had never done anything wrong before. I had never been this bad. What else was I supposed to do though. I stepped in through the doorway and glanced the room filled with awkward misfits.
Detention. The dreaded word at Emily’s school. Not only would your parents be called by the school office, you were required to stay after school and miss all sports practices.
I spent a long time in detention during my school days. I was always late for something. Funny looking back i found a lot of similarities in my classmates. Turned out the same people making fun of me were my undercover “friends”.
The sign on the wall was fly-blown and crooked. It said “DETENTION”. The room was hot as a border-town and airless as a morgue. In the corner, a thin man was kneeling and being sick into a plastic bucket, his whole body convulsing with each spasm. Elsewhere, men, tough looking men were avoiding each other’s gaze with the studied air of the guilty, or at least those considered to be guilty, which here was pretty much the same thing. An old timer was singing fragments of a tune with all the enthusiasm of a man going for root canal work. I sat and did nothing except breathe and I was trying to do not much of that.
I felt as if I was left in detention with all these thoughts racing through my brain. If only he knew that I could help him. How could they mistake me for such a harlequin? I am nothing less than a hero.
I was locked in a detention, a prison in my mind. Assigned detention for one thing only–I couldn’t pay attention to the rules. I know them all too well. I just didn’t care. I was out to explore. I mean, what good adventurer isn’t? What good is life without a little personal exploration, finding out what rules work and what ones don’t? And of course, you can’t figure out what rules don’t work until you break them.
I never got detention that much in high school. It happened more in middle school, but now that i’m thinking about it, not really. I remember one time my friends told the teacher to let me go because I wasn’t included in why we were all in detention. I was glad but I felt kinda bad.
tick tock tick tock
when will this detention end?!
tick tock tick tock
John rubbed his hand, it was starting to ache from the amount of lines he had been doing and sighed. Its not like he had done anything wrong, anyway. In all honesty Jim had been asking for a punch being swung at him. Most people couldn’t see why he defended his new found friend so fiercely; but then again they never really understood that Jim would say what the things that he did out of their earshot.
The bell rang and the teacher dismissed him with a curt nod. “There you are, I was so bored.” Sherlock said in his usual drawl.
“Yeah, well unlike you I can’t just skip detentions.”
“Irrelevant.”
Stuck again. The silence presses down on his skull and he’s desperate to fill it with the clicking of fingernails on faux-wooden desks, but the teacher’s glare stops him.
And he continues to suffocate.
I got detention when I was in fourth grade relatively frequently. That might be a surprise, since I was an A student throughout high school who was never in trouble with the authorities. But in fourth grade, I forgot to do my homework a lot. I didn’t avoid homework. I just forgot. I was a bit of a Neville Longbottom, you might say. I needed a remembrall.
where children go when things do not go their way and they act out. when little johnny decides to write on his desk and where young suzy goes when she uses a word she wasn’t supposed to know but her parents didn’t think she was listening. one hour of getting to know yourself or just not paying attention to anything at all. some teachers actually make you do homework or other assignments, just to make sure you don’t forget any of the low grade bullshit they shove down your throat every single day.;
never had one, have thought about it though and seen many movies which involve people in detention. one that comes to mind but may have been distorted is one in which the big and girl in detention are cleaning bathrooms but then they have to fight a dragon, or maybe like Harry Potter, it was a troll. and that leads me to think about the secret passages hidden within walls of toilets, where do they lead?
On the last day of seventh grade, I received detention for wearing flip-flops. I could have escaped out of the bathroom window which was wide open. Freedom was beckoning my name, yet I ignored its call. To this day, I am still bitter about sitting in that dusty library all morning and afternoon.
He sat quietly in the hard desk. Blah. This was the second time this week. But it wasn’t his fault! It was that gang of kids who thinks they’re so cool. All they had to do was blame it on him and bing! detention.
I thought it was unfair that I had to be holed up in this hell with you. Whoever came up with the idea of putting two rebellious kids together in a single room with enough hours to allow them to come up with the most rebellious schemes? Mr. O’Neill’s asleep, but our mind’s weren’t. I looked at the blueprint of the plan we have devised out of boredom and smiled. Whoever thought detention can actually be productive and kickass fun…? I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow! :)
Seriously, a detention? Did they really think he would stop being who he was because of a measly detention? He never served them, anyway, and if he was forced to, it just let him catch up on his sleep. No, he wasn’t going to change. Not because of them.
Was it really necessary to give her a detention? All Rowan had done was bring a cow to school, set the cafeteria on fire, put a chicken in the boy’s bathroom, splatter paint on the teacher, and put glue down the principal’s pants. Detention is a bit harsh.
He sat in the detention cell, drumming his fingers against the floor. Even after two hours, he couldn’t sit still. Pacing had long ago lost its lure, and even though he knew he should be saving his energy, he couldn’t help himself. He had to DO something. Anything. Because on the other side of the wall, they had the rest of his unit, and he knew it was all his fault.
When I was young I never received detention. Strange because I should have, see I was a good kid however, I was mischievous when it came to getting what I thought necessary. I wonder if the teachers knew but, realized my reasons weren’t bad. Like that one time in preschool, that I had woke up a kid I didn’t like just because he was rude to me. I never got in trouble, I believe it is because they knew I was just getting even and I deserved to.
Can’t you find a way, in your heart, to forgive me? It was only one mistake, one moment of rebellion, and I didn’t quite understand why it happened the way it did. I understand you’re upset, but do you really have to give me detention?
God I hated detention. For once I didn’t even do anything wrong. The guy behind me threw something and the teacher, and guess who got blamed? Well yours truely of course. It was the tedium that got me, just watching that stupid clock tick my life away made me sick.
I had to stop and think of my next move. This game required we abide by the rules of the environment, regardless of how stupid they were. That was escapism, and authority was a luxury that an Anarchy seldom provided.
detention is the most absurd thing ever created. it is pointless. no child feels punished by sitting in a room and doing absolutely nothing!
I despise detention. It is the most useless thing ever. You really shouldn’t punish people by having them do NOTHING.
Crystal couldn’t believe it. This was the fourth time in a row that Mrs. Prehistoric (actually Mrs. Presley, but the T-rex arms and the scaly skin said otherwise) had given her detention, all for giving her a “bad look.” Delinquent? Her? It was ridiculous. She just wanted to read her Thoreau and Emerson and whoever and get the Hell out of the way of everyone else.
And when I woke up, I was still in the detention room, next to the dinosaur.
Detention is the most counterproductive punishment ever. You are bad, so they lock you up in a room full of kids just as bad. All you do is get ideas for future misbehavior.
He walked through the long room looking at the floor. None of the men knew him, but they gave him looks that said “I’ll get you. Just give me a few days.” Like everyone else, he had no reason to be here. He was innocent. They all were. It just wasn’t the type of innocence most people recognize.
what if it were detension.
then we could say “i think its time for you to detension.”
or “you are detensionate.”
or “you are in need of detensioning.”
we could detension one-another.
i think that sounds nice.
Sigh. Detention, also known as my afternoon activity. I’ve never understood the point of detention: You’ve done something wrong so as punishment you’ll spend an extra hour in the place you go 8 hours out of your day. Clever. Really clever.
The girl sat in the corner of the room, staring up at the clock occasionally as she wrote down the same line over and over again. “I will not text in class. I will not text in class.” She had been caught for the third time this week, and it was the only punishment that the school could find to hopefully drive the message home
‘No dejan hacer nada, te retienen, te encierran. Estás castigado y encerrado, por haber hecho algo malo.
“I have detention,” muttered Lindsay to her friend Danielle. “Sorry, I can’t go.”
“What do you have detention for?” asked Danielle.
“Put a tack on Mr. Whitford’s chair.”
“That’s uncreative and mean.”
“But you stay with me anyway.”
Detention?? Again?
Well, i guess it wasn’t really a choice….But
Who is that guy?
You are the reason i’ve been sent here
You are the reason I smiled
You are the idea that still haunts me, thank god i’ve been sent to detention
Stopping. A period of nothingness as punishment. A detention of the body is bearable, but of the mind? I can’t. I hate that feeling. But mostly, honestly, I hate when I do it to myself. I deserve better than me sometimes.
I remember those days, when i went to school, and got into detention, those were the happiest days of my life, even though they seemed to be the worst.. Life is sad, earth is a sad place to be. I can’t sleep tonight….Help me???
Detention is a funny thing. Some people enjoy the feeling of “bad assness” that comes with being there. Some hate it so much. Some are not even meant to be there, but have simply been in an unfortunate spot at the wrong time.
She wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming day at school. But detention always had its perks. No listening to teachers droll on about dates in time and equations she would never need to know. Detention meant silence. That was something she always liked about school.
What else could I have done? I could see the word looming over my head. Detention. What would my parents think? I had never done anything wrong before. I had never been this bad. What else was I supposed to do though. I stepped in through the doorway and glanced the room filled with awkward misfits.
one time, I detentioned ice cream of my neighbour
Detention. The dreaded word at Emily’s school. Not only would your parents be called by the school office, you were required to stay after school and miss all sports practices.
I spent a long time in detention during my school days. I was always late for something. Funny looking back i found a lot of similarities in my classmates. Turned out the same people making fun of me were my undercover “friends”.
The sign on the wall was fly-blown and crooked. It said “DETENTION”. The room was hot as a border-town and airless as a morgue. In the corner, a thin man was kneeling and being sick into a plastic bucket, his whole body convulsing with each spasm. Elsewhere, men, tough looking men were avoiding each other’s gaze with the studied air of the guilty, or at least those considered to be guilty, which here was pretty much the same thing. An old timer was singing fragments of a tune with all the enthusiasm of a man going for root canal work. I sat and did nothing except breathe and I was trying to do not much of that.
I felt as if I was left in detention with all these thoughts racing through my brain. If only he knew that I could help him. How could they mistake me for such a harlequin? I am nothing less than a hero.
I was locked in a detention, a prison in my mind. Assigned detention for one thing only–I couldn’t pay attention to the rules. I know them all too well. I just didn’t care. I was out to explore. I mean, what good adventurer isn’t? What good is life without a little personal exploration, finding out what rules work and what ones don’t? And of course, you can’t figure out what rules don’t work until you break them.
I never got detention that much in high school. It happened more in middle school, but now that i’m thinking about it, not really. I remember one time my friends told the teacher to let me go because I wasn’t included in why we were all in detention. I was glad but I felt kinda bad.
tick tock tick tock
when will this detention end?!
tick tock tick tock
John rubbed his hand, it was starting to ache from the amount of lines he had been doing and sighed. Its not like he had done anything wrong, anyway. In all honesty Jim had been asking for a punch being swung at him. Most people couldn’t see why he defended his new found friend so fiercely; but then again they never really understood that Jim would say what the things that he did out of their earshot.
The bell rang and the teacher dismissed him with a curt nod. “There you are, I was so bored.” Sherlock said in his usual drawl.
“Yeah, well unlike you I can’t just skip detentions.”
“Irrelevant.”
Stuck again. The silence presses down on his skull and he’s desperate to fill it with the clicking of fingernails on faux-wooden desks, but the teacher’s glare stops him.
And he continues to suffocate.
Sitting in this room. locked up. thoughts on its own. what was that noise? It came through the door. Danger? maybe. no time left. escape. locked up.
I got detention when I was in fourth grade relatively frequently. That might be a surprise, since I was an A student throughout high school who was never in trouble with the authorities. But in fourth grade, I forgot to do my homework a lot. I didn’t avoid homework. I just forgot. I was a bit of a Neville Longbottom, you might say. I needed a remembrall.
where children go when things do not go their way and they act out. when little johnny decides to write on his desk and where young suzy goes when she uses a word she wasn’t supposed to know but her parents didn’t think she was listening. one hour of getting to know yourself or just not paying attention to anything at all. some teachers actually make you do homework or other assignments, just to make sure you don’t forget any of the low grade bullshit they shove down your throat every single day.;
never had one, have thought about it though and seen many movies which involve people in detention. one that comes to mind but may have been distorted is one in which the big and girl in detention are cleaning bathrooms but then they have to fight a dragon, or maybe like Harry Potter, it was a troll. and that leads me to think about the secret passages hidden within walls of toilets, where do they lead?
On the last day of seventh grade, I received detention for wearing flip-flops. I could have escaped out of the bathroom window which was wide open. Freedom was beckoning my name, yet I ignored its call. To this day, I am still bitter about sitting in that dusty library all morning and afternoon.
He sat quietly in the hard desk. Blah. This was the second time this week. But it wasn’t his fault! It was that gang of kids who thinks they’re so cool. All they had to do was blame it on him and bing! detention.
I thought it was unfair that I had to be holed up in this hell with you. Whoever came up with the idea of putting two rebellious kids together in a single room with enough hours to allow them to come up with the most rebellious schemes? Mr. O’Neill’s asleep, but our mind’s weren’t. I looked at the blueprint of the plan we have devised out of boredom and smiled. Whoever thought detention can actually be productive and kickass fun…? I’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow! :)
Seriously, a detention? Did they really think he would stop being who he was because of a measly detention? He never served them, anyway, and if he was forced to, it just let him catch up on his sleep. No, he wasn’t going to change. Not because of them.
Was it really necessary to give her a detention? All Rowan had done was bring a cow to school, set the cafeteria on fire, put a chicken in the boy’s bathroom, splatter paint on the teacher, and put glue down the principal’s pants. Detention is a bit harsh.
He sat in the detention cell, drumming his fingers against the floor. Even after two hours, he couldn’t sit still. Pacing had long ago lost its lure, and even though he knew he should be saving his energy, he couldn’t help himself. He had to DO something. Anything. Because on the other side of the wall, they had the rest of his unit, and he knew it was all his fault.
When I was young I never received detention. Strange because I should have, see I was a good kid however, I was mischievous when it came to getting what I thought necessary. I wonder if the teachers knew but, realized my reasons weren’t bad. Like that one time in preschool, that I had woke up a kid I didn’t like just because he was rude to me. I never got in trouble, I believe it is because they knew I was just getting even and I deserved to.