Hey all, this is a famous letter written by a fictional character by the name of Ivey-Lee Jones to a fictional principal, Mr. Ben Sanders. It is part of a story I'm writing; The Story of Ivey-Lee Jones.

Dear Mr. Principal.

I would like you to take this letter as a complaint, or an insult as you teachers would usually call it. It is about different things I have noticed, or things that you probably intend to leave alone and completely ignore.

Firstly, I would like to tell you how upset I am about you kicking out the Nerds from their area. I'm not quite sure if you wanted them to socialize with the Preps, or the Greasers, because that's exactly the opposite of what's happening. Instead of welcoming the Nerds, they steal their laptops and books. My main concern is that your "staff" is not doing a single thing about it. In retaliation, the Nerds created Stink Bombs, of which they put into the Preps bags, and Itching Powder, of which they put in the Greasers jackets, of which they leave on their table. Stewart Bailey, the leader of the Greasers, was caught itching his groin, which meant that he got a detention for barely any reason. How the Nerds accomplished that, I really don't want to know.

Secondly, you've taken the oval away from the Jocks. Actually, you haven't even done that, as you never game them an oval in the first place. Because of this, they've been hanging out near the canteen, stealing younger kids money and buying their own meals with it. A couple of days ago, they gave poor Mr Quill a wedgie when he walked past to get into the Staff Room. I can't imagine how many more of these incidents will occur, as you continue to promise an oval, but never deliver.

Even the Musos are suffering from your complete lack of leadership. A couple of days ago, you decided to cut the Music programs funding by 50%. When these guys played horrible Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black music right outside your office, you told Drew Robens, the music teacher, to take away their instruments and to take them out of the program. I can only imagine how bright your phone lit up that night when their parents demanded that you give them back their instruments. I do believe one of them, who was also a father of a Jock, personally came to your office, and gave you one hell of a wedgie. I think I also overheard a Nerd, who was a brother to a Muso, planning to put a miniature Stink Bomb in your flute.

The Girls seem to suffer the most. Ever since you screwed all these "gangs" up, they haven't been able to find boyfriends. While they hang everywhere, it seems that one or two of your staff members like to hit on them, flirt with them, and even "accidently" pinch them where they shouldn't even be thinking about. Someone even witnessed you hitting on Stace Cameron – I can't imagine what your wife will say when she's told.

Last, I have a problem with YOU. The way you walk around like you're the King of the World. The way you will probably throw this letter in the bin after you read the word "complaint". I don't find you intimidating, Mr. Principal, I really don't, as you've now got one hell of a Student vs Teacher war on your hands.

Good Luck,

SIGNED: One of the Best Kids in School

P.S: I hope you enjoy the smell emanating from your bag and, when you play it, your flute and the itching in your pants. By the way; the Jocks and the Musos are waiting for you outside your office while the Girls spray deodorant in your personal bathroom, and the Greasers graffiti the Home Eco Rooms.

P.P.S: The Preps are currently at your house explaining to your wife what you have been doing to Mrs Templeton. Have a nice night, Mr Principal.