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Page 21 text:
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m vWvV Left: Are we testy this morning? Dan, Sherri, Colin- engaging in a private convo. Middle: The pause that refreshes: Scott slurps on a juicy. Bottom: Thank God for bells: Glenn’s animal instinct surface with another trying day with Beth, the cause. Chaos. Entering the caf, you peer around for your longawaited lunch mates and your favorite seat. Finding it occupied, you decide to venture into the lunchlines, which extend to the opposite side of the room. As you would rather wait for the lines to go down and inhale your lunch with five minutes left in the period, you then decide to search out a seat and socialize. As your stomach growls and you refrain from attacking another’s lunch tray, you finish off those last bits and pieces of homework that you didn’t complete at home. Sixth period is right around the corner. By this time, students are awaiting seventh period to count down the minutes until dismissal. Talking is non-stoppable, socialization taking over the classroom discussion. Nothing ever seems to get accomplished. But, who’s complaining!! There’s a quiz tomorrow? that doesn’t seem possible with the amount of material covered, or did you miss something? Time will tell. At last. Seventh period. The countdown begins. This has to be the longest class of the day, and also the loudest. Those slouching, motionless and dreamy zombies in first period by now have turned into a babbling and squirmy gaggle of students anxiously awaiting the final bell of the day. Suddenly, everyone jumps out of their seats, and as the first person approaches the door, the bell sounds, and the halls are instantly filled with chatter as wild, joyful students scramble briskly to their lockers for the necessary books they need to do their homework. The halls are soon left “y: ;v Ml US
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Page 20 text:
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! ®3|p§ V • . ' • ' fiffl , ' v .r. •C ; ' T 4v jo get, up % the Tffe: alarm long school day aHjea i 4 $ . ' 4 tired, lim hartd flaps Mife $i M 4auttda , |v Another ten minutes, then I’ll get up. Just let me sleep a little longer. • . . • • : .; ■’. • ' ■ ■ v . y »■ ■ K ‘ . ifVi, ■■■- ■ ' ■ ± • • - -4 w.v ' • ► W . ° ; • - ,- . . . . . • . ' »•• • t ‘ ♦ • - • .. TV . ’ »•; . •• ' .■».•.-• V • . , . . V 3 • •• - ■•- • ' •■ V -Mfi , • Buzz! Your eyes pop open in agony, and you jerk your head toward the clock to see that it is now 6:40. You realize that with her annoyingly chirpy morning voice, saying Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty! (or some variation) This note of motivation forces you to drag yourself slowly out of bed, one heavy leg at a time, and somehow succeed in standing. Scuffling down the hall slouched over, you make your way into the bathroom to start the shower. Here, the steamy, almost scalding water seems to make you yearn for sleep even more, as you sway back and forth, eyes closed, under the pounding beams of water. As you finish your morning rituals and leave for your ride to school, you grab a blueberry muffin or gobble down a couple of heaping spoonfuls of Fruit Loops just to quiet the urgings of your mother, and exit the house, book bag and lunch in hand, still dragging your feet as you lethargically make your way down the driveway. It’s first period. The slouched, limp bodies sit motionless in theirseats, their faces expressionless as they listen” to the morning announcements. The rest of the period is spent in much the same way, and as the bell sounds, they emerge from their desks and stroll casually out into the halls, heading aimlessly to their next class. Second, third, and fourth periods are waning periods-it has yet to be pinpointed at which period that consciousness begins to occur. After all, who’s N wake up and revive rather quickly with a screaming Algebra teacher, a gym class outside in 40° weather, and a surprise test in English class-nice way to begin the day! Thank God someone invented lunch!!! Above: Kerry asks the million dollar question: is it over yet? Below left: Time simply soars when you’re having fun, doesn’t it? Lincoln, Rob, Mark, and Mike find this out. Below right: It’s hard to keep a double identity,” says Santa Jill.
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