Looking up at the clock, I sigh, and put the book down. I pick up my pencil, once again mentally preparing myself for another foray into the literary minefield that I call an essay. It appears as if red ink has been thrown carelessly over my carefully typed pages, but upon closer inspection, they prove to be the increasingly disappointed corrections made by my teacher.
read me… read me… Quietly but insistently, my book starts calling to me again. I try desperately to ignore it, and focus on mending the gaping wounds torn into my work by the critical eye of someone far better at this than me.
READ me… READ me… I grab a set of earplugs that were laid out next to me specifically for this purpose. There’s only three pages left to go. I look up at the clock- 9:30. I’ve been sitting here for four hours.
READ ME!! READ ME!! I look one last time at my homework…and reach for the book.