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He and the EOG


The clamour of voices fills the room as they wait
“You may now begin testing.”
Pencils, paper, answer sheets, test booklets
Each placed upon their desk as a gift,
But I know better.

He looks around the room in desperation
hoping to find the answer as he
flips through the pages
frantically searching for one he understands.
Eyes wondering,
lost in a land of confusion
he looks to the next problem and
flips the page again.
The numbers swim on the page
like fish flopping on dry land.
Pencil down
he rocks in his seat.
Agony
Discomfort
Feelings of inadequacy as
he knows those around him
will score 3s and 4s with little effort.
Head back down
bubbling begins in
patterns of hope?
His head drops to the desk.
There is no need for scrap paper.
He stares at the page
wiling the answer to come to him.
Flips a few pages,
Head in his hands,
Time crawls.
He wants to be anywhere but here.
Suffering,
Feeling stupid.
He misses the multiple choice questions of last year.
He glances at me.
He knows I know.
He writes some numbers on the scratch paper.
He asks for a band-aid.
Finger bleeding, he avoids the test.
60 minutes later, it is time for a break.
His answer sheet totally blank as he hides it in the test book.
He takes refuge in the silence.
Three minutes of not having to pretend.
Break over
he takes out his calculator
for the next part of the test, only to have me say,
“Are you done the Calculator Inactive section?”
He laughs as he says no.
18 math problems never looked so daunting.
He continues to steal glances my way
sending out telepathic SOS signals.
He knows I am silently cheering him on.
Believing in him.
He answers a problem
before staring into space again.
Five minutes later, the page is complete.
All 18 questions answered.
In 5 minutes.
Scrap paper still blank as it is swapped for new.
He plays on the calculator
Spelling words,
Making up math problems,
Finding the square root of 492932.
Until he is ready to tackle the new problems.
This time the machine is there to lend aid.
He flies through the first page
glancing at the math genius across from him.
He prays for some of her wisdom.
His pencil lead breaks giving him
a short reprieve while he waits for another.
New pencil, new eraser.
He uses it until it is no more.
He arranges things on his desk.
He checks his finger.
And balances his head on his pencil.
He flips through the test until he finds one to answer
and leaves his mark on the answer sheet
before going back for more.
A sneeze from a fellow student gives him a chance to speak
“Bless you”
Distracted now
he gazes out the window.
His toes tap.
His head nods
to the beat of the music only he can hear
He transforms into Jack Nicholson The Shining style.
He looks around the room
seeing books closed all around him.
132 minutes into the test
he closes his book.
Thankful this year’s test
doesn’t depend on going to 8th grade.

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