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My legs tap rhythmically as I perch upon my stool, glancing lazily around the room. An excruciatingly chipper member of the teaching faculty rambles on, completely unheeded by anyone, herself included. This isn’t natural behavior for seven in the morning, but an explanation is quickly rendered by the gigantic steaming thermos on her desk. Several students could definitely use the drug themselves, betrayed by their nodding heads and dead eyes. Actually, one seems about to fall, slowly drooping, plummeting, collapsing . . . and saved by the hand of a good-natured tablemate. My glare is sent swiftly, but the cruel denier of my entertainment has already returned to avid note taking. Bored, I pivot around to the back, where there currently bounce two paper airplanes and a rubber ball. A particularly clumsy shot by one sends a crooked glider heading at least a yard over their pal’s head, sending it shooting past the bookshelves, precariously close to the front of the room. Leaning forward, I observe as it floats past the eager and attentive pupils of the foreground, swoops behind the teacher and … crashes directly into her coffee. It falls with a thump as I settle back for another forty-six minutes of class.

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