So it takes me about three hours to crank this thing out. Just continuous work, using references and what not, trying to remember what bird wings look like, trying to cut out the shape of those wings without hurting anything, and I want to stress that I usually never put that much effort into anything at school, so I’m giddy at the prospect of everyone at school suddenly finding out, “Woah, I didn’t know Anon was talented AND funny!”
Now it’s the big day, and I’m swaggering into class with my masterpiece, because obviously I’m the best thing that’s happened to this school. I’m showing off my work to my classmates, and they’re impressed, some of my buddies and a really cute girl kinda laugh for a bit, and I’m feeling pretty great about myself, so I decide that all that’s left is to turn it in to the little turn-in tray face up under everyone else’s projects, so as to catch the teacher off guard with my brilliance.
Teacher walks in, I try and act natural waiting for the landmine to go off as she picks up the stack of butterflies. And everyone’s just talking because of all the downtime we’ve got now that she’s shuffling through them.
But through all the chatter, the voice of an angry teacher cuts through everything. She yells, righteously pissed off, “WHO MADE THIS?! WHO MADE THIS ONE?!” I look back reflexively, and I see that she’s brandishing my project, glaring at everyone with unfocused rage.
Now, I don’t know why I ever thought this would be a good idea, because this particular teacher had a tendency for being really nice some times but then snapping and making children cry, and there was no way to predict when or where it’d happen. I had just triggered one such occasion.