Have you every sat listening to your teacher and your mind drifts to other thoughts? Let's be honest here, everyone has at some point in their life. So there you are listening to your teacher ramble on about fractions and your mind takes off for Mars. Suddenly, just as you are thinking about your summer plans, the BSB pop into your brain. You wonder what it would be like to have them as your teachers....
You start to think about what BSB suits what subject at your school. It would definately be more interesting to have Brian as a music teacher and Nick in the computer lab, waiting to blow a fuse. Your mind wanders farther into your daydream as your teacher jumps from fractions to multiplying decimals....
You are now completely spaced out. You have not heard a word that your teacher has said in the last ten minutes. You know that it will affect your grade, but who cares about grades when the BSB are around? You decide to start your imaginary school day in music class.
The new teacher welcomes you into the bright room as you and your classmates sit down on the old carpet. He takes his seat infront of the group and smiles. You wait for him to speak.
Class: Hi, Mr. Littrell
Mr. Littrell: Do you mind if I play my guitar and sing a song for ya'll?
Class: No
*Mr. Littrell looks at the class strangely, screwing up his face. He has never had such and unenthusiastic class before*
Mr. Littrell: Alrighty then. This is a song that I wrote.
*Half the class is asleep. Soft snores can be heard throughout the room*
Class: *snore*
Mr. Littrell: There are people that say what you wanna hear...even on a rainy day they tell you the sky is clear...
Class: *snore*
*Mr. Littrell continues singing, his eyes closed. You wonder if he is falling asleep too*
Mr. Littrell: Always forever...one thing she said...Never say never...those simple lies that she fed...
*Mr. Littrell stands up and starts walking around the tiny room, his eyes still shut. You wonder if he is singing in his sleep or if someone crazy-glued 'em closed*
Mr. Littrell: Oh how can I make you see just what you did to me...
*BOOM*
*Your head snaps around as you watch Mr. Littrell walk right into the cement post on one side of the room*
Mr. Littrell: Oooh...that hurt
Class: *snore*
Mr. Littrell: I have to stop singing with my eyes closed
Class: *snore*
*Mr. Littrell glances around the room. He sees almost all of the students slouched this way and that, asleep*
Mr. Littrell: I guess ya'll are all very tired
Class: *snore*
Mr. Littrell: I guess I'll just stop now...let ya'll sleep.
Class: *snore*
Well, you decide, shaking away the last remains of your music class daydream, maybe I'll move to the computer lab for second period. You open your ears for a few seconds, only to hear your teacher still droning on about why it is so important to move the decimal point when you divide...
You and your classmates enter the computer lab on the top floor just as the teacher looks up from his computer game. He quickly turns it off and shows you where to sit.
Teacher: Hey, whats up all you students? My name is Mr. Carter and I am the new computer teacher in your school. I currently resign in Florida, but was born in New York. Hey, ya'll know about this group called Journey?
*As the teacher continues with his explination of this band called Journey, most of your classmates once again fall asleep. You can't help but start to feel drowsy after Mr. Carter has talked for fifeteen minutes*
*All the students obey. Well, atleast the ones that are still awake*
Mr. Carter: Now, does anyone of ya'll have any questions?
*One hand waves in the air*
Mr. Carter: Yes, kid?
Kid: What does this button do?
Mr. Carter: Hmmm...I dunno.
*You see large red letters above the button and read them. DO NOT PRESS*
Mr. Carter: Well, it doesn't say anything about not pressing it, so let's go ahead and try
*You wonder how blind or dumb this teacher is*
*Mr. Carter presses the button*
*BOOM*
*You hear this shockingly loud noise as the school blows up*
Class: *snore*
Mr. Carter: Whoops
Okay, you think, so that didn't go so well either. Maybe things will pick up in your favourite subject, PE.
All the students drag themselves through the remains of the blown up school, which includes only a few classrooms. You are glad that one of them is the gym.
Teacher: Hey, ya'll? What's goin' down? My name is Mr. McLean and I am your new PE teacher.
*Remaining classmates find a seat on the floor infront of the teacher and listen to him boredly*
Mr. McLean: Today in PE we will be doing some dancin'. When I was a little kid I always wanted to be a dancer. But here I am with all you kids that probably don't care. I got stuck with this job over being a Backstreet Boy. What the heck is up witt dat?
Class: *snore*
Mr. McLean: What? Ya'll fallin' asleep on me, are ya? Well, I'll make sure you're not tired. Up, up, up you lazy kids! Lets do some dancin'!
*The half-unconcious kids stagger to their feet infront of Mr. McLean*
Mr. McLean: Alright, come on now. Move ya feet like this.
*Mr. McLean does a wicked dance move that looks as though nobody could ever accomplish it. You wonder if he thinks you are all super heros*
Class: We can't do this, Mr. McLean
Mr. McLean: Oh, come on kids, it ain't that hard now. Just do this
*He does another impossible-looking dance move and you and your classmates try it as best you can. More than half the class ends up on the floor in a giggling mass of tangled arms and legs*
Class: Owwww!
Mr. McLean: Come on now. It ain't that hard, you clumsy wimps!
*The beat up class struggles to their feet, ready to try again*
Mr. McLean: Okay, move your right foot behind your left, twist your legs like this, move your arms to your side and in the air...
*the class once again lands in a crumpled heap on the floor*
Class: OWWWW!
Mr. McLean: Alright, that's it. I give up!
*Mr. McLean storms out of the gym, muttering something about how he'd rather be in a band called the Backstreet Boys than teach a group of clumsy kids how to dance*
Alright, so that didn't well either, even in your favourite subject. You sigh and glance around the room at your classmates. You notice your best friend has her head down on her desk and her eyes are closed. She seems to be asleep. You cover your mouth to silence the giggles that threaten to escape. You seem to be not the only one incredably bored with your teachers long lecture. Oh well, you think, I have two Backstreet Boys left. You quickly decide to visit Howie in Science.
Grabbing your books, you jog down the hall in the large crowd of students to the Science room. Pushing your way inside, you find a seat at one of the long lab tables and turn your attention to the teacher.
Teacher: Hi, How-we doin? My name is Mr. Dorough, and that is D-O-R-O-U-G-H, not D-O-R-O. Welcome to the science lab. Today we will be disecting frogs
*You hear faint groans from your classmates and you sigh. You hate disecting anything, even an owl pellet in fourth grade*
Mr. Dorough: Now, we will begin by passing out the frogs
*He hands a student in the front row a few plates with lifeless green lumps on them. You feel your stomach lurch and are afraid of throwing up*
Mr. Dorough: Here, hand these out to every student. You may start by studying the external features of your frog
Class: *groan*
Mr. Dorough: Come on kids, it ain't that bad. This is How-we do it. Just take your toothpicks and poke it.
Class: *barfing noises*
*Everyone cautiosly pokes at their frogs, half the kids turning as green as the creature on the plate*
Mr. Dorough: I feel sorry for these frogs. They have all lost their lives so that we can study them. We all live in a sick world. Sick, I tell you, sick!
*The whole class seems somewhat surprised at Mr. Dorough's sudden outburst and drop their toothpicks to listen to him*
Mr. Dorough: This is not right. These frogs do not deserve to die. We can make a difference. Put down those tooth picks and let the frog know you care by not disecting him. Show it that you love it.
*You all wonder what has gotten into this teacher. Why was he getting so deep about this? It was science class, weren't they supposed to study and disect animals in this subject?*
Mr. Dorough: This frog has died a horrible death just so we could rip him apart. This is truly disgusting.
*Mr. Dorough hits the table with his fist, causing some plates to go flying in the air.*
*SPLAT*
*A bunch of frogs hit the ground and go sliding around the classroom, much to the delight of the students who shriek and scream and make a fuss*
Mr. Dorough: Now, calm down everybody, they are only frogs and they are dead....but they are scaring the life outta me. Come on, lets go!
*Mr. Dorough runs into the hallway, the noisy class not far behind. He looks like he is freaking out, but like he said, they are only frogs. You wonder what his problem is*
Mr. Dorough: *screams in a high-pitched voice that breaks all the windows in the school*
*CRASH*BOOM*
*All the windows break and the whole school in forced to evacuate because of all the broken glass*
This imaginary day is not going very well, you think. What is happening? Well, one Backstreet Boy left. The day could still pick up, you suppose.
With binders and textbooks in your hands, you and your classmates enter the math class, ready to be tought by yet another new teacher.
Teacher: Hello.......my name is.....Mr. Richardson.....welcome....to math....class.....
Class: *snore*
Mr. Richardson: Are....ya'll....falling....asleep....on me?
Class: Yeah.... *snore*
Mr. Richardson: Why.....?
Class: Cuz you are boring and ya talk to slow
Mr. Richardson: Oh....
Class: *snore*
Mr. Richardson: Am.....I....really.....that.....boring? Do.....I talk.....too....slow...sometimes?
Class: No, not sometimes, all the time
*Mr. Richardson scratches his head. He doesn't think he talks too slow. He thinks he isn't boring. Atleast not as boring as that other new teacher, Mr. Dorough, whom he thought was a total wimp*
Mr. Richardson: I...would...appreciate.....if....you....didn't....sleep....while....I....am....teaching....
Class: *snore*
*Mr. Richardson sighs. He knows he is getting nowhere with this class*
Mr. Richardson: WAKE UP!
Class: Wha...what?
Mr. Richardson: I said WAKE UP you rude kids. It is very inpolite to sleep while someone if talking to you, especially if it is a teacher.
Class: What happened to your slow talking?
Mr. Richardson: I know of no such thing, now get out your books and work on page 112 and page 113. For homework do page 114. I want to see every question done tomorrow morning, and if I don't, there will be trouble.
*BOOM*SNAP*
*Mr. Richardson slaps his metre stick on the table infront of him and it snaps in two pieces. One remains in his hand and the other flys across the room*
Class: *gasp*
*The flying end of the stick hits a kid in the head at the back of the classroom*
Student: OWWWW! *rubs head* I'm sueing you, Mr. Richardson!
*Angry student stomps out of classroom as you and your peers look on. Mr. Richardson has a look of amazement on his face*
Mr. Richardson: Gotta go, don't wanna get in any trouble or anything
*As you watch, your teacher runs out the door like there is no tomorrow, leaving the class unattended. You, nor anyone else for that matter, ever heard from him ever again. And all this over a stupid ruler?*
You rest your head in your hands and review your imaginary school day. In your mind, you come to a conclusion. The BSB should stay singers. It would be Christmas in July before any of them would ever qualify to be a teacher.
This is a Nobody But Backstreet original. I dreamed up this concept and typed it up here for you. It took a few days and a lot of typing. Do not copy any part of this story or the idea. Thank you
Teacher: Hello! I'm your new music teacher, Mr. Littrell.
Nobody But Backstreet's "BSB AT SCHOOL" is Šopyrighted
