Cooking School . . .

So, I was at my first day of cooking school.  Very nice campus the class was part of a larger college.  There were 8 of us, we were told to cook something that was easy for us.  So I cooked something I knew I couldn't mess up (but I didn't see what it was) and our dishes were tested and she chose 5 to continue to cook and 3 of us were set aside (I was one) and told to wait.  While I was waiting I started a story about the history of the band Kiss.  My notebook, a purple one with loose leaf notebook paper that I use here for notes, was on a ledge outside a window.  I turned my back a moment and it had begun to rain, I had to grab my notebook before it got wet.  I turned back to the classroom, wanting to get started cooking again and the teacher, a young blonde bitch, told me I wasn't good enough for the class.  Another woman, an older woman, told me I should be working at Burger King, I told her I wasn't able to get a job anywhere, much less Burger King.  I was angry and I packed up a couple of bags I had there, one a large red and black duffle type bag.  I left in a huff and was awakened as I walked across the campus.