I exit the calm, quiet tranquillity of my form room into the cluster fuck of chaos known as school halls between lessons. I take a deep breath and start the walk towards the stairs. I doge and weave between noisy students, both big and small, passing the slow wall of people who aren't really moving much and try and get to the base of the stairs. The halls as busy as an ant colony, just without the coordination of one. I pass people slowing to talk to friends, people going into toilets and some people getting stopped by teachers for dress code violations.
Like the only male who cares about Tabitha what's-her-name showing shoulder skin is you Mr Old boots, or whatever the fuck your name is. God I can remember so much subject knowledge but names, names are hard as hell to remember.
I reach the first step of the stairs, ready to begin the arduous journey up the school stairs. Students always are packed like sardines at this point and today was no different. I hear the chatter of my schoolmates around me indistinguishable due to the sheer number of voices, the noise sounds like the whole forest of birds singing but the birds are being choked while doing so. So, it sounds terrible
I wish, i just wish they would be quieter.
When I get to the 2nd floor, I have to catch my breath a little.
The cons of putting brains entirely over brawn, I suppose.
I turn left and enter the maths homebase heading for room 2.07. I see my teacher Mr Peters standing at the door with his usual stern look on his face. He holds a complete and utter mastery of resting bitch face; he looks beady eyed at the class as students enter the classroom. He stands straight postured arms folded. Sir is a very well-organized person.
"Morning, books are at your usual seat write the date and title on the board you'll need your calculator out today" Mr Peters says repeatedly as students enter classroom making sure everyone who passes by him knows. As I walk past, he sees me and his face softens a little “good to see you Pipey, now I know at least someone will actually understand today’s content.” he says in such a cheerful tone that someone who only just met sir would be completely taken aback by.
Sir is one of my favourite teachers, he is actually really cool once you get to know him, he does get a little shouty at times if people really get on his nerves.
"What can I say sir? I pay attention" I reply as I start to get past him
“A lot more than some of your classmates that I can agree with.” Sir replied in a jokey tone. “Oh, hello Katie glad you could come to lesson, so have you read a book yet or do you still think the Earth is flat?” Sir turned to quiz one of the troublesome students. As I began to walk towards my desk.
I still can’t believe that in the top set, the best and smartest students in our school year, and we have a classmate like Katy Smith who believes all sorts of stupid shit. Like last lesson she genuinely tried to argue that, hence Sir’s remark I suppose. Wait why am I giving myself context?
I sit down on my seat at the front row and begin to write what’s on the board plus the date in my exercise book.
Seen as the board says box plots, I’m guessing we are doing that today.
After a minute or so when most of my classmates have come in and seated themselves Mr Peters enters the room and stands at the front. He stands there waiting for the rest of the class to stop talking. The class just carries on talking, after a minute Sir and I make contact he mouths “They never learn, do they?”.
“Probably not, shame though they are in a centre for learning” I mouth back. Sir chuckles at this, which alerts the attention of the chatter-box classmates. My classmates quickly silence themselves realizing their mistakes.
10 minutes too late to be honest with you. They need to learn.
“Glad to see you’re all ready for class now” sir says getting his laptop ready to start marking the register. “Oh, by the way everyone except John and Elina will be coming back here for a break detention, this is because they were actually ready for lesson albeit Elina did talk at the start but she became quiet after a minute, the rest of you wouldn’t shut up” sir says. “So, I guess that shows why they're the best two in the class”. There were a few groans from the class and an icy glare or two thrown my way.
Hah yeah take that dumb dumbs. I feel smug now.
"Anyway, then lets actually start the lesson now” Mr Peters says clearly annoyed.
Sir goes through the register calling names and marking people in. We begin going through box plots.
Well, this boxplot shit is far easier than it looks at first glance.
After five minutes Mr Peters is done explaining. Sir then puts questions on the board for the class, but then before I can even write the number of the question, he comes up to me with a worksheet.
“Seen as you're smart you can have this harder worksheet” sir says. “I know you will get through this with ease”.
“Okay sir” I reply. Sir then proceeds to walk to the opposite side of the classroom and hands the Elina Hunter girl an identical sheet.
Yeah! I get the smart person sheet because I’m smort.
I begin to power through the worksheet questions with ease. About fifteen later Katie Smith makes one of her usual laughable “facts” making me let out a barley inaudible chuckle as sir frustratedly tries to explain that the moon landing would have been harder to fake in 1969 than actually going to the moon.
I would chuckle louder but it doesn’t involve me so I would rather keep quiet.
The next 15 minutes just seem to pass by, I answer the work sheet sir doesn’t get (too) angry and before I know it, I’ve packed up and the bell is about to ring.
It’ll ring in three two on-.
*BONG* *BONG* *BONG*
Ah close enough.
“Now remember everyone except Elina and John has to come back at break!” Mr Peters shouts as we leave.
Yay not having to come back at break, boo to my deadname.
I mean it is who you are.
Not now dysphoria. Anyway, time to go to lesson. I’m actually genuinely looking forward to this one.
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