The Math Test
It is silent; too quiet for our noisy class.
The only sound heard is the slight ruffling
of papers and clothes, the occasional scrape
of chair against floor, calculator buttons
being pressed frantically. The electric pencil sharpeners,
the junior recess bell; nothing will lift their hypnotic
daze until they have finished the last question,
push their chair back slowly and handed in
the dreaded math test, the fresh numbers
in their minds already fading.
Although it has not yet been an hour,
it seems like an eternity has passed;
the smallest tap is too loud.
But as the time fades away and more
people are done, we slowly return to
ourselves - whispering jokes, writing and
drawing randomly, and playing
rock-paper-scissors for amusement.
The ruffle of papers increases, as does the
whispers that have become murmurs now.
Giggles echo lightly around the room;
the mood brightened as though sunlight
now streams through a previously dark room.
Only the teacher's coughs are heard clearly
above the muttering kids.
Finally, everything returns to normal,
or as normal as we ever were.
I suppose it's fun once in a while
trying to act the perfect class,
but who would want to?