Today is Physics Day, a day where our entire Junior class (Juniors take Physics here) goes to Six Flags: Great Adventure and rides roller coasters all day. I’m absolutely terrified of both heights and sharp turns from drops, and roller coasters have both. However, if any day, today was the day to conquer my fear and finally go on a roller coaster, even if it wasn’t one of the more harsh coasters in the park.

There was confusion on my end about whose group I should be in, because I did not wish to be in any group in my own class. Every group was going on some crazy coaster, and I didn’t want to be in the mix. I lobbied, therefore, to be with a group in another teacher’s class - Dr. Cherdack’s, a carefree teacher who is more like me than I probably know. There were no issues getting him to agree to let me be in a group in his class, however the group I wanted to be in already had five people. To make a group of six - two people over the supposed limit - would be inherently bad. So we did what we could, and split the group in two. It all worked out.

These groups were made for the sole purpose of doing a physics experiment while at the park. What, you thought it was all fun and games? Nope - on Physics Day, you must take measurements of three different rides. The required measurements are spelled out on a sheet specific to the ride you wish to measure.

On a side note, I’m personally concerned about Cherdack’s opinion of me. I admire him, and find him a great guy, but from what I saw of him today, he’s not that fond of me. This only concerns me because I’m absolutely positive that my Physics teacher, Mr. Gilmore, hates me. To see the teacher I would actually like to learn from also dislike me might drive me away from physics. And I can’t leave physics. Physics and I are a pair, and if these teachers both think that there’s no place in the world of physics for me, what good am I? I wanted to compensate tonight at the National Honor Society initiation, but was late. Mr. Gilmore greeted me, putting on a face that said he expected me to be a flake, and be late.

I wish to say this: Excellence can be late and still be excellent.

At any rate, I did ride my first coasters today - “Runaway Train” and “Skull Mountain.” Both were seemingly starter coasters, and although I was a bit scared on Runaway Train, I quickly realized during the drop that it was pretty boring. I don’t know what I was scared of. These coasters weren’t anything like I expected - in fact, both of them were boring. But, my group had already done the more exciting coasters that I would have otherwise tried to go on. I guess I’ll have to wait until next time to step up and go on the big-boy coasters! However, it was a step to conquering my fears, and I’m glad I did try the coasters I did. It says that I probably have a high tolerance for coasters, because I didn’t even flinch during them while others were screaming. There wasn’t really anything to scream at. They went around, went down some [boring] drops, and possibly went sideways, but there were no loop-de-loops or anything that deserved a scream.

I’m going to now shift topics to the aforementioned National Honor Society inauguration that occurred just minutes ago. We, the Juniors, were the “inductees,” while some very nervous young “presidents” and “vice presidents” read some speeches, congratulating us for having a GPA that’s actually acceptable in society. They make it seem like the NHS has stringent guidelines and qualifications, but all you really have to do is have a 3.6 GPA and fill out a small sheet of activities you do. Most everybody who fills out the sheet gets in, and I only know of one person who was rejected. I don’t even know why they were, but even then, if everybody but one person who applies gets accepted, what’s so special?

The leaders of this society, as well as our own school’s principal, are horrible public speakers. There are students in out school that put these men to shame. After each leader’s speech, he would take a candle and light an even larger candle, in a mock-religious ceremony of sorts that my mother describes as if we were “going to church.” Not minding the fact that my family is Jewish, it was indeed quite religious looking, with the exception of the first speaker. This first speaker had the honor of lighting not only his larger candle, but a smaller candle with which to carry around the room to the larger candle (these larger candles were located a ways from where the person was actually speaking). His hand shook as he attempted to light the small candle with a lighter he unveiled from his pocket. We thought he would be the one to finally burn down the building. Luckily, he made it to the larger candle safely, and lit it, representing one of the qualities of the NHS, “scholarship.”

He, thankfully, passed the lit smaller candle on to the next speaker, so that they would not have to light a small candle of their own. This went on until they has all spoken, and all four large candles were lit, representing Scholarship, Character, Leadership, and… well, something else. The entire ceremony was pointless, and took up too much time that could have been better spent. During the ceremony, I jokingly referred to the NHS as a cult, as it seemed religious enough to be a cult. Some people, strikingly, actually agreed.

Eventually, each student was called up and presented with a pin and a hearty handshake from our principal. A pin was what we waited for - nothing more. Each student was then instructed to grab a small candle of their own and light it with one of the large candles - I lit mine with “character” - and stand on the risers in the pit below the auditorium stage. I was nervous, wondering if someone would drop their candle and set the room on fire.

I started chatting, because students were lighting candles. I was curious, and stated, “You know, is fire just an amalgamation of photons concentrated around the point of a chemical reaction, and the glow just the scattering of those photons subsequently?” Luckily, since we’re all National Honor Society students who love physics and engineering, they understood it, and said “Yes.” I’m sure one or two had no clue what I said.

In the middle of this unimportant ceremony, while students were still lighting their candles, I accidentally coughed, and my candle blew out. I started laughing, and, trying to suppress it, asked someone if I could light it with their candle. Two boys to my right tried to help me, both of whom I knew. Unfortunately, this only made the event funnier, so as they attempted to light my candle, I laughed uncontrollably, spilling hot was all over myself and them. We all started laughing, and eventually one managed to light my candle successfully. It was especially ironic that I was laughing so hard at this point that the sheer breath from my laughter blew out the candle a second time.

And then it was over. Here I am, excellence incarnate. Lavish me with compliments, please. I went on a roller coaster.