Apparently, one of the poems I turned in during journalism was about "suicide" (which it wasnt) so the teacher calls me and is making this big deal about it and wont believe me that I didnt mean the poem like that. So then about an hour later the school psychologist calls my house and, I am the only one home, is all concerned and shit. I was like "seriosuly, people, I am not like that! damnit, what will it take to convince you?!?" So, turns out she wants me to talk to my counselor on monday morning. I'm just waiting for them to have some cops turn up at the house to make sure I am ok. Jesus Christ, these people are dense. I kept telling her that I am glad we have people at the school who are looking out for kids, but I've told her 10 times thats not the kind of person I am. I dont believe in suicide being a means to an end. Needless to say, I am revising the poem before I re-submit it so that I dont have people thinking this. Also, so I dont give people any ideas. .Steve