"And don't forget that tryouts for 'The Wiz' will be today after school in F2 from 3-5! These have been your morning announcements from the Colts of Carson High School. 'Where excellence is an expectation!'" the announcements ended, and the class started to get loud again. Ms. Sully was running late, so a security guard had let us into our class. Mr. Pittman, the band teacher, opened the door that connected the two rooms to keep an eye on us.
Not that we needed someone to keep an eye on us. I mean yes, we are high school students, but we aren't that bad. Oh who am I kidding? We probably do need someone to watch us. Paper airplanes were thrown in multiple directions, cluttering the front floor, or stage as we called it.
In Ms. Sully's class, we had our desks set up on the different levels of the floor. The front of the room was like the stage because when we would preform in class, that is where we would stand. Other days we would go use the stage in the auditorium, but it wasn't always available to us.
There was a loud clearing of the throat from the front of the room and I looked up to see our teacher. She was not happy. It was written all over her face. All the students froze, stopping what they were doing, but not daring to move an inch.
"I am 15 minutes late and this is what I get when I come back?" Ms. Sully yelled, anger her expression, "I can't tell any longer if you are high school students or a bunch of animals in the zoo!"
A few students looked down at the floor, ashamed at what they had done, while others smiled, proud of the success they had in making her angry. I wondered if she would send anyone out, or if she would punish us all for what the others had done.
Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on students with things in their hands that they shouldn't have had, "Any students who are going to keep up this behavior will be sent to the dean, or the counselor, or whoever to be punished and switched to a new class. I am not here to babysit. I am here to teach the art of acting and theatre, and I can't do that for the students who are here actually wanting to learn with an unruly bunch like you," her eyes landed on a few of the students who had been holding paper planes or balls, "disrupting my
Not that we needed someone to keep an eye on us. I mean yes, we are high school students, but we aren't that bad. Oh who am I kidding? We probably do need someone to watch us. Paper airplanes were thrown in multiple directions, cluttering the front floor, or stage as we called it.
In Ms. Sully's class, we had our desks set up on the different levels of the floor. The front of the room was like the stage because when we would preform in class, that is where we would stand. Other days we would go use the stage in the auditorium, but it wasn't always available to us.
There was a loud clearing of the throat from the front of the room and I looked up to see our teacher. She was not happy. It was written all over her face. All the students froze, stopping what they were doing, but not daring to move an inch.
"I am 15 minutes late and this is what I get when I come back?" Ms. Sully yelled, anger her expression, "I can't tell any longer if you are high school students or a bunch of animals in the zoo!"
A few students looked down at the floor, ashamed at what they had done, while others smiled, proud of the success they had in making her angry. I wondered if she would send anyone out, or if she would punish us all for what the others had done.
Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on students with things in their hands that they shouldn't have had, "Any students who are going to keep up this behavior will be sent to the dean, or the counselor, or whoever to be punished and switched to a new class. I am not here to babysit. I am here to teach the art of acting and theatre, and I can't do that for the students who are here actually wanting to learn with an unruly bunch like you," her eyes landed on a few of the students who had been holding paper planes or balls, "disrupting my
