Waiting for my turn

The room is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy with waiting. I'm just looking at my desk, trying to keep my mind from drifting too far.

The sound of a name

When the teacher starts calling names, it’s like a gentle ripple through the room. You hear a few sighs, a shuffle of papers, the quiet click of a pen. It’s not a test, but it still makes your heart do a little skip.My own name hasn’t been called yet. I’m just sitting here, tracing the grain of the wood on my desk with a finger. It’s a small, pointless thing to do, but it helps the minutes pass.

Finding a quiet focus

I notice the person next to me is doing the same thing, just waiting. There’s a kind of shared understanding in that. We’re all in this quiet space together, even if we’re not talking.It’s not about being picked first or last. It’s more about the calm before you have to think. You get this little pocket of time where you can just be, before the lesson really starts for you.

A different kind of listening

You start listening differently, not just for your name, but to the topics being picked. Sometimes you hear one and think, oh, I wouldn’t mind that one. It’s a soft kind of hope.