If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll want to know is which school I go to and what my classes are like. I don't like to talk about it much, because it's such a terrific bore and all, but I guess I could go into it just this once. I don't really feel like telling you about all my classes, to tell you the truth, but it couldn't hurt to tell you a bit about this photography class I had last week. The first thing you'll want to know is that I go to this snotty school in Massachusetts called Wellesley High. You've probably heard of it. It's filled with all these rich jocks walking around like they own the place when they're all about as dumb as a brick. When you see some hot shot football player swaggering around like a prince, you know you're in with the biggest bunch of phonies this side of Needham.
             I should also probably tell you a bit about my photography class. First off, my photography teacher is the biggest goddamn phony you've ever seen in your life. He's a real nut. It's only his first year teaching, and you can already tell he hasn't got much of a career ahead of him. This guy goes on and on about how beautiful everything is and how wonderful it is to capture stuff on film. He tries to be artistic as hell but doesn't know much about photography in the first place. He gives us these terribly phony speeches about what tremendous potential we all have as photographers but then doesn't show us how to even work the cameras right. As it turns out, all our pictures look like crap and so he gets all sore and yells at us for not knowing what we're doing. The thing is, he's right. We don't know what we're doing because he hasn't shown us how to do it. That kind of thing drives me crazy. It really does.
             So we were in the photography class last week and we all got to go outside for a change. The teacher left a note on the door saying we would have class outside in the courtyard. It was pretty nice out and all, but...