I found my poem, rolling off the

edge of my wooden desk and

landing towards the tip of my

brand new black Nikes as I

struggled to find the redundant

phrase in my “What’s Wrong

Wednesday” worksheet.

I try to kick my poem back up,

but my attempt fails miserably.

My poem is sent flying across

the room, landing right in front of

my teacher's podium. “Maybe no

one saw that” I thought to myself

as I took a quick scan across the

room. Every single eye was glued

on me, everybody anticipated my

next move I tried to slip out of my

desk silently, but ended up knocking

over my folder in the process. I

knew that unless I suddenly gained

some sort of telepathic powers, I

would have to walk over to my

poem with my brand-squeaking-

new shoes. So I took the walk of

shame, and as soon as I got back

to my desk, I could hear my

teacher say, “Jacob if you

keep throwing pencils in

my class, I’m going

to have to come

to your wedding

in 10 years

and throw

pencils

there

too.”