Belonging Creative writing 75%

It was a sleepy summer’s day and all I could think about was getting home and relaxing. The sun was gleaming down on us and glistened in our eyes as it reflected through all the droplets of water hanging off the shade cloth. The end of lunch bell finally rang and we all trudged to the lockers to get our books for fifth period. Food Technology. I only chose that subject because it was a bludge. And I guess everyone else there had the same idea as me, because they didn’t seem all that bright. We all sat down and Miss Kemp had that familiar look of sadness in her eyes when she saw it was us that she had to teach. The sky turned two shades darker as clouds began to blanket the sky. I sat up the back in my usual seat next to a quiet girl, like me. The group of trouble makers sat to the left of us and the girls who actually wanted to learn how much flour was needed to bake a cake sat up the front. To the left sat the stoners, staring straight out the window, not touching their books for the whole lesion.

“Turn to page three hundred and eight in your excel books”, Said the teacher. What? Shouted the boys on the left. You promised us it was prac today? This is bullshit! A general giggle erupted across the classroom. I felt sorry for the teacher as she and I both knew she was in for an hour of torture. “We only have practical classes once a week, you know that” she said hesitantly. Yeah.. well - that’s shit isn’t it! Said one of the boys. The teacher was beginning to show her frustration but she didn’t reply. She knew they got their kicks out of making her angry so she remained silent. They had made her cry a couple of times this term already. I didn’t see why they liked teasing her; but I still didn’t tell them off.

The lesion went on and they continued to make smart arse comments directed at the teacher. The stoners would laugh and egg them on. The girls at the front tried to blank out the mind numbing rubbish that was being catapulted from the back of the room.