A day in the life of Dana Harris

A day in the life of Dana Harris

By Dana Harris, Online Opinions Editor

It’s very early, and music is playing in the background.  It’s the mesmerizing Lady Gaga and the melody makes me smile.  Suddenly a loud noise rudely interrupts my bliss.  I reach over to get its attention so it will stop.  It’s peaceful again for about five minutes, but then the vicious cycle repeats.  Music – loud noise – reach over to stop it.  Music – loud noise – reach.  But now the cycle is broken – it’s not the beeping noise I hear, it’s my mother’s voice – and she sounds aggravated.

“Dana, it’s 6:32!  Why aren’t you downstairs?”  I leap out of bed, grab the first t-shirt I see in my drawer and throw on a pair of shorts.  I have a mission that needs to be completed in eight minutes: explain why I woke up so late, scarf down breakfast and rush to the bus stop.   As I sprint down the stairs, my mind juggles possible scenarios to explain why I have overslept.  Again.

 I decide to tell (a version of) the truth: “The multiple alarms I set clearly aren’t working correctly.”  My mom listens intently then berates my dad for not getting me a more reliable alarm clock.  He just shakes his head and smiles.  Driving to the bus stop, he asks what we could do differently to make sure I get up on time.  I do not have any thoughts on this matter and he gently suggests I consider going to bed earlier.  For obvious reasons, I ignore this suggestion.  However, an ingenious idea comes to me.  I will create and sell alarm clocks that will play the worst song ever written over and over.   When you hit the snooze button, it just increases the volume.  I settle on “Friday” by Rebecca Black.  This idea will make me as rich as Mark Zuckerburg.

We approach the bus stop but no one is there.  Down the road, I see the bright yellow school bus flashing its obnoxious red lights.  Panic and fear hit me—I don’t want to miss the bus.  Again.  My dad, once again (Do you see a pattern here?) repeats his advice that getting to bed earlier will make it easier to get up and we won’t have to rush to the bus.  I nod in agreement, mostly to ensure that he stops talking because it is too early to even attempt to communicate.  We catch up to the bus or as I like to think of it, a chauffeur picking up six more zombies.  I rush onto the bus with my back pack and softball bag.  My entrance is less than graceful as I knock over the fire extinguisher.  Again.

 The bus arrives at school at 6:53.  I put my bag down in the team room and then proceed to sit with my friends.  The second bell rings and I somehow manage to make it to class with my eyes half shut.  There are four kids who are actually sleeping, their heads on the desk.  It’s a record high!

 In between walking to first and second period, the hallway I use is jammed up.  No one moves and there is a big commotion in the hallway due to an “adorable prom proposal.”  Ah…young love.  I have another brilliant idea for making money: a portable GPS system to alert students of blocked hallways.

 The morning ends, kind of, when the bell rings at 10:40 for lunch.  It’s time for friends, nourishment, and teacher visits.  Following this very important part of the school day, it’s back to class.  I feel energized and although only three students are napping during the next class, this too is a new record.

 What a day it’s been! Again.