Somehow when my cousin all the way in California informed me that she was getting married way back in October of last year, it seemed reasonable for me to take a five day hiatus from school within the first week. Now that I’m back, I can safely conclude that this was a bad decision. I now have make-up work creeping up on me all over the place and as a class officer, I’ve neglected a lot of my responsibilities while away; we have an upcoming class meeting (during which we will reiterate to our fellow seniors that we’re old) and our annual crab feast ticket sales going on. Thrusting myself back into the swing of things, I figured was the way to go. When it came down to my classes, I simply had to get back on track with all my readings and small assignments. This applied to all my classes with one exception: sailing. Since my sailing instructor—Adam Werblow, who coaches our nationally ranked sailing team, mind you—did not seem at all phased by my two absences, I went through class assuming he hadn’t even noticed. This would be no problem, after all, it was just a P.E. class. As soon as my partner, Jevi, and I took out our little dinghy, it hit me that I actually had no idea what I was doing. Jevi commanded me to tightened the jib, which I probably would have done had I known what any part of that term meant. Luckily for us, the wind didn’t appear to be threatening us but the further out into the St. Mary’s River we got, the higher the possibility of capsizing seem to be. Hearing shrieking from our right, we turned only to see two classmates very much drenched in the jelly-fish infested water, I suggested we head back in before I had to show up to my next class with a wet (white, mind you) t-shirt. Pulling into the floating docks (which was a miracle on its own), our instructor without a doubt commented on my inability to maneuver anything since I’d been gone for an eternity. A pat on the back to me I suppose. Lesson learned: never leave school. Ever. Really.
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