The Eighth Page

Phillipian Satire: Autobiography of the Kid Who Talks Too Much In Class

I have been aware of my superiority since I was a young child. In preschool, I dominated Simon Says, often becoming “Simon” myself. In kindergarten, I revolutionized show-and-tell by bringing nothing, criticizing society’s materialism. In middle school, I was “elected” to the student council three years in a row––they started calling me “president for life.”

I have also been quite sure of my passions for a while. I love debate. I devoted so much time to practicing my debate skills. From arguing with my friends over lunch about the ethics behind their choice of protein to cross-firing my crush on his intentions, I have established myself as a debate champion. I even started bringing my trophies to replace my friends at lunch.

I enjoy the environment, body positivity, and “dump your racist boyfriend” laptop stickers. My dislikes include Big Oil, Capitalism, and organized sports.

Since the words “Well, actually…” joined my robust vocabulary at age four, I have participated in every single class discussion, except, the sex education units, because ew, gross! I also love hearing myself talk. Whenever someone else starts talking, I make sure to interrupt them to return the class discussion to proper quality. As I talk on and on, I can feel my classmates’ and teachers’ attention and reverence engulf my body. One time, I wasn’t on my A-game when I caught one of my classmates closing their eyes. I started pounding my fists on the desk to re-captivate my audience.

There is actually a name for my strength: an academic weapon. I’m so powerful, the government should start funding me!