Sitting in front of the school

Sitting at the front of the school

The surface of the pencil felt slippier then riding along on melted ice while in gumboots with no grips and as I jotted down some notes on my book, I had to readjust my grip ever so often. The sun shone ignorable rays of heat while the wind lazily crept by, barely swaying the tips of the trees. 

My classmates chattered among themselves while cars zoomed by to who-know-where. But the teacher wanted none of that and yelled at us to “Shush!”, when I suddenly heard faint yappings of a dog. Not loud or quiet, but I could’ve missed the barks if I hadn’t sought out for any other sound that weren’t the people beside me. 

But what did take most of my attention wasn’t neither sight, sound or smell. It was the feeling of the pebbles on the concrete bumping on my skin and the edge of the uncomfortable brick fence/wall stabbing into my back. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else without forgetting about how sore my back was even if I wanted to. Maybe, if I hadn’t chosen to sit where I was sitting, I would’ve enjoyed it better.