Feild Trip Fail

December 16, 2010
By R.E.B BRONZE, Fairfield, Connecticut
R.E.B BRONZE, Fairfield, Connecticut
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Firmly gripping the leather, I sat alone at my seat, surrounded by a plethora of fifth grade geniuses. As the bus rolled onward I could feel the pit of nervousness in my chest, reminding me how much I dreaded this moment. Students all around me were happily chattering about the field we were about to face. We were on a field trip for gifted math students.

The only reason I was there is because I was considered “gifted” at the subject of math. I never even envisioned myself taking the qualifying test until my mom was sitting in front of me telling me that I had to. I almost punched her in the face just at the thought of it but she enforced the idea she believed in and I took it the next day. All I needed to do was fail it on purpose and I wouldn’t be on that field trip. I almost did but my dad raised me to always tell the truth. “Nothing good comes out of lying,” he would lecture me after I attempted to lie myself out of something. After I took the test (nearly failing it) I began the gifted math course and barely got by. The whole thing was a disaster. That is why I felt so out of place on the bus. One small mistake and I could completely embarrass myself.
Deep in thought, gazing out the window, I was snapped back into reality by the screech of the door stopping followed by the whoosh of the door opening. I trudged through the isle and stepped outside of the bus. I was surrounded by a collection of large brick school buildings that made up the college campus. Each building had its own walkway and a sign that displayed what it was. I ambled my way after the crowd and the sidewalk filed us through two sliding doors.

By the look of the table set up, I could tell it was a cafeteria but now the tables were covered in cards, cubes, blocks, graphs, sheets of paper, and all kinds of “fun” math materials. Under a large window that overlooked the college campus was my table. It had a green sticker on it just like the one on my shirt. I plopped myself down next to a boy who didn’t look very friendly, which worked for me because I wanted to keep a low profile. A briskly walking teacher stopped by our station and began ranting on about what we had to do. “Your job is to fill in the quizzle sheets,” she droned “ First read the directions and then mark the answers in the correct boxes…” By then she lost me. All I could think about was that quizzles are the one thing I have the most trouble on. Suddenly I found my heart beginning to pound like a bass drum and my hands sweating beads. Then like a gift from heaven I heard the drawling voice say something worth my time. “The answers are on the back for checking your answers. DO NOT copy them down,” she demanded sternly. With that she went on her way.
As I scanned the table I immediately knew that this task was considerably easy for the other students. They were already scattering for their pencils and grinding their tips within the boxes. When I peered down at my paper my mind was going mad like a hurricane. I didn’t know one answer. Rustling my hair, deep in confusion, I regrettably decided that in order to keep from embarrassing myself, I needed to just cheat off of the back. I clenched the pencil in my sweaty fist and quickly started scribbling down the answers while keeping my head on high alert. Finally, after minutes of flipping my paper back and forth in an obvious manner I was finished and didn’t have one suspicious eye on me.

I began to lean back in my chair when a teacher sneaked up from behind me and snatched my paper. It was the stern lady and she was looking at my paper with no expression on her face. After no more than 30 seconds she placed the paper back in front of me and with a terrifyingly calm voice asked “Can you explain to me how you got the answers?” All of a sudden my face was burning up and the bass drum began to continue its beat. I could feel all eyes on me and I didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know,” I desperately choked out.

That was all she needed to hear before her hand was hooked on to my shirt and she was dragging me to a different table. In no time I found myself watching the field trip from my own private corner and could hear my dad’s voice in my head. “Don’t lie. Nothing good comes out of lying.”

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This article has 3 comments.

mitchyb said...
on Dec. 21 2010 at 6:43 am
Very well written! He described the emotions that he was feeling in that circumstance   so well that I found myself getting nervous!

writerssoul said...
on Dec. 20 2010 at 3:15 pm
writerssoul, One, Delaware
0 articles 0 photos 105 comments
oops i meant a verygood piece

writerssoul said...
on Dec. 20 2010 at 3:14 pm
writerssoul, One, Delaware
0 articles 0 photos 105 comments
this was a good peice. very descriptive


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