As usual I set off late to school with half of a broken pen, splintered shatterproof ruler, rolling eyes and a tic in my neck.

Although I arrive late, I just make it to registration, which surprisingly goes well without the usual drama of shouting out and annoying people around me.

It’s hard sitting in silence fighting the urge to shout, while holding back my neck tics that make me look weird.

Finally, the bell goes, and we all scurry off out into the madness of the corridors, which are filled with temptations like, fire alarms to press, heads to slap and fire extinguishers to set off.

Luckily, I make it to my first lesson without giving into any compulsions.

Ah French class and I’ve bagged a window seat near the back of the room.
Okay let’s just sit and stare out the window for a while until this class begins.

After about ten minutes of watching a Safeway carrier bag blow around the carpark like a hyperactive jellyfish it’s time to see what’s going on in this lesson.

It’s pretty quiet, apart from the scrawling sounds of pen on paper and Mr Henthorn looking intensively at something on his desk.

I wonder what I have missed?

Oh well better open my book and look busy then I can go back to staring out of the window.

Looking back out the window there are some crows fighting over a crisp packet, but where has that bag gone?

The battle for the crisp packet ends abruptly when a large seagull swoops down and the crows can only stand back and watch as it tears packet apart and eats the crumbs for itself.

Just as the Safeway bag returns from its windblown tour of the carpark the school bell rings and I’m dragged back into the reality of the classroom.

I close my book, which has not had a drop of ink added to a single page, then head for the door and out once again into the madness of the corridor.

The Bunsen Burnt Bench

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