by Kirsten Kraus | feature editor
Your teacher asks the class a question, and with so much confidence, you shout out the wrong answer. Wanting to crawl into a ball and roll out of the front doors, you slump back in your seat and count the second until the bell rings.
High school is a time for growing, laughing, and of course, enduring the most awkward moments of your life. The aftermath of these tragedies will forever be embedded into your memory, haunting your very existence.
You’re in the bathroom and you hear someone crying in the stall next to you.
Quietly finish it up and only flush if the flush cannot be heard over the sobbing. Quickly rinse your hands and make a hasty retreat. You don’t ask any questions, you don’t offer any condolences, you just quickly and quietly bolt. It was like you were never there.
You just got the big prom ask, but it’s not from the person you want.
Say yes in public to save them from the public humiliation, but once the coast is clear, you kindly say “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
You trip going up the stairs, during passing period, in front of everyone.
As soon as you fall, transform into a rolly polly, curl into a tight ball, and wait for passing period to end. Once you regain your composure, go to class, take a seat in the back, and avoid eye contact for the next week.
Your phone rings in class, blaring your “Sexyback” ringtone.
Look around the classroom and play it off as if wasn’t your phone. Shoot accusatory glances towards your classmates until the phone finally shuts up.
You accidentally call your teacher mom/dad.
Don’t back down or correct yourself. Play it off as if your teacher was actually your parent. For the remainder of the year, only address them by mom or dad, never by their actual name.
You just ask the girl of your dreams to prom in front of everyone, but she says no.
Laugh it off and act like the whole thing was a joke. Instead of crying and begging, just tell her you never wanted to go with her anyways.
You still don’t get it after the seventh time your teacher explained it to you.
Act like you have even the slightest clue of what they’re talking about. Nod your head, walk back to your desk, panic internally, and google it when you get home.
Your cyber stalking the new cute boy in your history class and you accidentally “like” one of his photos from two years ago.
“Unlike” the picture before you have your meltdown so you’re able to gather the last bit of dignity you have left. Then, to ensure that nobody will ever find out about your tragic mishap, delete your account and put your computer in storage until its time to move away.
