Trapped

In the history classroom, the backwards setup brings even more confusion to my already confined mind. My teacher parades and lectures to our backs forcing us to twist and turn so we can focus on him. A monotonous sermon envelops the classroom and over crowds the atmosphere.

...Even though the south hated the race, the north hated the individual...

His speech continues; our minds wander and yet can't completely escape. The history itself chokes our attention spans until they are almost non-existent. Each second feels like an eternity and the clock ticks slower and slower.

...Uncle Tom's Cabin may be the only literary composition that...

His voice reverberates against the insides of our heads, but we can't understand it. All it is is empty noise. An empty noise that drives us further and further from his intended direction. His intended direction that drives us further and further towards mental anarchy.

...was the most influential battle in the Civil War due to...

I uncoil and stare at the emptiness of the wall ahead of me. My gaze wanders towards my fellow captives and I wonder if my vacant expression is identical to theirs.

...during peacetime, a Union officer...

I try to concentrate but my mind goes blank.

Time passes and realization hits. My glazed eyes focus, my mouth closes, and I wipe the drool that escaped from the corner of my lips. I snap to attention. For a moment, I understand. My teacher's facts and information aren't senseless babble. But it was just a moment.

The endless tirade goes on. It seems to be endless, infinite, eternal. The drone of his voice rings in my deaf ears begging for my belligerent mind to listen.

...that's my son of a gun story...

I shift to a different position searching for relief. I'm tempted to just jump up and run. I desperately want to do it, anything to stop this never ending drudgery, but my conscience knows better.

...General Lee surrendered...

My head feels like it's going to explode. The increasing pressure pushes against my self control. I'm within seconds of losing myself. The probability heightens in every measured breath. His voice cracks. My control slips.

The bell rings.