The following excerpts have been compiled from actual gym final projects found in a school garbage bin. Matt Heiden, equipped with nothing but a red pen and a certain runaway police dog, discovered and edited the following passages to show the general public what not to do for a gym final.
He apologizes in advance for any material offensive to lycanthropes, physical education teachers, physical education students, and Darwinian theorists.
Reflections on your physical education experience:
Some of the time, gym has def been just super great, but the rest has been like, whatever. The whatever parts have been like, you know, when that overweight guy cried that day in the sixth grade to me and Jennabell, sorry, that’s my nickname for Jennifer Breesley, and anyway, this big mean red-faced guy just said that we couldn’t play dodgeball because Timmy’s uncool parents got mad that he came home one day with four giant bruises. LOL! I mean, what was wrong with that jerk? Timmy talks with these awful gestures most of the time anyway, and he’s just not a fun guy to hang out with, you know? And he’s sooo awkward. So, like, this mean balding guy is like foaming at the mouth, like really spitting as he talks, and he squints down and practically barks at us that dodgeball is not allowed anymore. Seriously?…
Evaluations of fitness scores: Although I am a bit shy about admitting it, I am a lycanthrope. Whenever I had gym the week before my condition would appear, I was quite jittery and irritable because of my imminent “time of the month,” as my doctor euphemistically explained it. This explains some of my worse scores, such as my poor mile time this spring, and my sophomore flexed arm hang time.
I earned my best scores when gym class fell on the day after a full moon: my senses and strength match those of a bloodhound at their peak, and they take about 48 hours to subside to my usual mild-mannered self. How else could I explain my excellent mile time in fall of junior year?
Even some teachers would understand. Mr. Lupin once said to a colleague of mine about his own lycanthropy: “I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure… My transformations in those days were—were terrible.” Yes, my transformation was responsible for my physical education, but they were accompanied by such pain. The only comfort I could take from my monstrous disease as I writhed and grimaced in agony was that I was totally acing the president’s fitness challenge…
Design a Fitness Program:
Description of the F.I.T.T Principle: How effective your exercise is depends on a four major categories, and you can make sure to fulfill all of these requirements in fun ways.
F stands for Frequency, and you should frequently do your favorite exercises, such as B.E.E.R. P.O.N.G., which stands for a Bingeing on Exceptionally Entertaining arm Raises that People Obviously Need Greatly, a particularly difficult throwing exercise (no relation to the game that is illegal for those under 21). I stands for Intensity, which is a huge help in sports that require hard work to succeed, such as street fighting. The first T stands for Time, an important quality in endurance activities like running from uniformed… [text breaks off here, author still at large]
Disclaimer: The views expressed in the above are not those of The Schreiber Times, nor those of Matt Heiden, and all identifying information has been changed to protect the identities of the real authors.