A student I should turn to be

It all kicks off from here. As a Year 2, I'll be expected to actually read and write instead of messing about all day.
We dashed in at the last minute and spent 3 hours doing a pie-chart where you have to write 3 things you did in the holidays in the 3.14 sections of pie. We also had a large assembly in which us senior staff members with tenure were instructed to mentor the little baby new starters and guide them in the mysterious ways of the Golden Rules.
After a meet'n'greet in which the new teacher had to learn all our names, we got extra playtime and Erin got to show off her splendidly smart new Pineapple designer skiing jacket that was so totally unrequired on this blazing hot day.
The parents ruined the end bit of the day when they all arrived 20 minutes early for pickup and milled around aimlessly talking, laughing, discussing our holiday homework projects behind our backs and distracting us from the end-of-day song.
Because I had to walk as far as the library after school my legs practically fell off during gymnastics. I had to forgo the park session and cried loudly after supper so Jof would have to rub my tired and hurting legs.

Trinidadian Scorpion Moruga Chilis are the hottest on the market currently so that's what we're growing. 19 of the reddest were picked and marked for processing. We first knew something was up when Bud put on some bright purple Nitrilite rubber gloves and did the thing, you know, where you wiggle your eyebrows and snap the end bit against your wrist like a playful proctologist who doesn't get out enough.

See the red danger signs from the burning diadems of doom. Using a herb chopper all were minced into a giant volcanic pile to be frozen for the lunch rolls of the future. We got enough seeds to fill several acres of arable land, but I admit it'll be a problem finding a greenhouse of that size before next spring. And this is only the beginning - there are dozens of fruits left hanging there like vicious Xmas baubles of orange pain. It was funny afterwards doing the washing up with streaming eyes and death-rattly coughs because of the acrid capsaicin fumes.