Yesterday my homeroom teacher handed out a survey that would supposedly tell us what our ideal careers are. One of the questions was "What is your least favorite class?" Instantly I thought of Physics. Of all the classes i have ever taken, Physics is by far the one i hate the most. No, it's not just the "least favorite," I actually hate it. This might sound a little dramatic but maybe you've never been in a physics class. It's just like living in a horror movie.

You know how in a horror movie everyting starts off all nice and happy but then, slowly, the characters begint o realize that something is horribly wrong? well it's pretty much the same with Physics. The school years starts off fine. I walk in to class ready to learn the magnificent science of Physics. It goes good for the next week or two but then it dawns on me that not everything is as it seemed at the beginning of the year. It began with a simple homework assignment. I had spent hours on it the night before and was positive that I had done everything right. We check our assignments in class. I got the first one wrong, no big deal. The second one wrong. Well, i'll study more tonight. FInally we get through the assignment and i got every single one wrong.

After that the class just drags on forever. Physics is a very suspenseful horror movie. It wants you to be in agony even before anything happens. My teacher tells me to open my book to a new chapter and then begins writing new formulas and equations on the board. Everyone else starts working frantically to get them done. I just sit there. I can't figure out where to begin. How am I supposed to know if it's an equation using kinetic or potential energy?

Instead of trying to figure it out i just doodle on the side of my paper. I just can't seem to force myself to ask the teacher for help because, by this time, I have no idea what to even ask. Oh, well, I'll just figure it out tonight. It'll be easy. Obviously, by this point i am in denial. Of course there's no freaky monster trying to kill us all.

Finally I realize that this no joke; These problems are not fake. I am actually expected to solve them. Slowly I pull out all of the papers that my teacher has given me which are supposed to walk us through every single type of problem we may ever encounter. Miraculously I cannot find the problem I am trying to solve. I have to find the potential energy of an obect that has fallen 73 feet and was dropped from a height of 94 feet. It has a mass of 100g. I need to convert the units into meters a nd kilograms. If there is a eastward wind of 45 mph, how far away from the starting point will the object land? They might as well be asking me to send a rocket to the moon. What a long, painfully agonizing death that physics has bestowed upon me!

I finally look up from my work (which has gotten no where but i have made a few fantastic doodles). The bell's about to ring. I pack up my stuff and go home, planing to study until i get this stuff. Instead i put it off and work ahead in all of my other classes. The next day Physics makes it's final strike when my teacher announces a pop quiz that will count for half our grade on our report card which comes out this Friday. I am doomed. I am dying. I am already dead. The movie is over.

Let's see. If the fatal wound hit at precisely 2:45 on Tuesday, March 25 when I was standing at an altitude of 300 feet above sea level, and am only 17 years old, at what velocity did my death travel?