The moment before a name is called

The bell had just rung. I was trying to cram one last fact from my notes into my head, the ink smudged from my thumb. The teacher was scanning the room, and that familiar, low hum of tension started to build.

That quiet scramble in your head

You know the feeling. Everyone is suddenly very interested in their desk, or the window, or a shoelace. My mind was racing, replaying the homework I only half-finished. I could feel my shoulders creeping up toward my ears.It wasn't about not knowing. It was about that spotlight, that sudden shift from being part of the class to being the whole class. The pressure to perform, right then, with everyone watching.

A different kind of selection

Then she pulled up the wheel on the screen. It wasn't a dramatic thing. It was just a simple circle with all our names on it. The class sort of exhaled, a collective release of held breath.The randomness of it changed the air in the room. It wasn't personal. It wasn't a test of who looked most prepared or least prepared. It was just chance. My own anxiety loosened its grip, just a little.I could actually listen to the question she was asking. My brain stopped screaming about being picked and started, slowly, to think about the answer.

When the wheel spins

There's a brief, almost playful suspense. You watch the colors blur, a tiny part of you hoping and not hoping at the same time.

After your name lands

It's still nerve-wracking to speak up. But it feels less like you've been singled out and more like you've drawn the short straw in a fair game. There's a difference.