In the final weeks of every academic year, all the students at my school have to meet with our so-called guidance counselors. It’s an odd name: I see my guidance counselor maybe ten minutes a year, and she never provides much guidance or counsel. She just signs the paperwork that lets me set my schedule for the next school year.My appointment was scheduled for today, so I left chemistry class early to go to Ms. Watson’s office. I had a light purple form in my hand where I’d already checked the boxes of all of the classes I wanted to take. After a curt greeting, Ms. Watson slid her reading glasses down and studied my form.“Advanced calculus and physics,” she said incredulously. “Are you sure you can manage all that?”“Of course I can,” I said, taken aback by her gall. “I have the best grades in my chemistry class right now. And besides, I want to become an engineer, so I need to learn a lot about science and math.”“I don’t know,” she tutted. “Those grades might slip if you take too many challenging classes at the same time. We don’t want you to burn out from the stress.”“I can handle it,” I replied with an uneasy smile. I didn’t want to seem rude or impudent, but I was insulted by her lack of faith in me. “Maybe you could speak with my current teachers or call my parents. They’ll tell you…”“No, no, no time for that,” she interrupted, absentmindedly signing the purple form. “I have another ten advisory meetings this hour. Best of luck with your classes next year, but don’t be afraid to make an appointment with me if you need to drop anything later.”I fumed out of the office and back to the chemistry lab. Why did she doubt me so much?No sources were consulted in the composition of this passage.SubmitIn paragraph 1, the narrator calls Ms. Watson a "so-called" guidance counselor because she believes