Classroom Scribble

    This is a classroom scribble. I am writing this in my class. Wow what to write about...I can write about something sad or happy. Maybe I can write something meaningful or simple nonsense. I don't know yet I guess I'll figure it out as I go along.
    Writing based on Improv. is the best way to write, it makes it so there is no set thing I have to write about I can let my mind wonder. Doing this I think expands the mind and lets out the best of subjects. I love it even though I'm one of the worst writers who usually cringes at the thought.
    So still on the subject of what to write about I guess I'll start now.....
    English class....one of my least favorite classes...so boring and so tedious but yet I'm stuck with it. We are reading a boring story shes talking in a painful monotone voice. It kills me more and more every second her voice drones on. The clock seems to tick slower and slower knowing I'm waiting for its arms to reach 10:15. 10:15 my freedom time the time I can grab my bag and exit this dreadful class and escape its wrath until next time when the monotone voice and unpleasant reading takes me again. But until 10:15 I'm stuck....
    The Crucible is what we are reading...looks like a decent story but the teacher finds a way so that every student is fighting with all their might to keep their eyes open and their heads up. I find no reason to pay-attention...the thought of attempting to keep my mind focused on such a dull thing makes me cringe...so I move away from it and write this. The Classroom Scribble. The Improv..
    My teacher looks over the class. Scanning for kids who let their eyes fall or move to a new place. She looks at the trouble makers with more of a sharp eye to make sure they stay in line. Occasionally she lets her voice ROAR so all becomes quiet. The ROAR wakes the sleepy eyes and grabs all students to advert their eyes to the person who made this ROAR. Everyone sits quietly like the ROAR has taken everyone's voices. She goes back to reading in her painful monotone voice, heavy eyes fall again and small murmur's rise in the troublesome corner. Normalcy restores, I write, the clock tics in its harsh slow manner, the plain voice drones on....