The Cavemen

1.25pm.
2 Merpati. Funny this class should be named after a dove, it's anything but peace-loving.

Gripping my bag handles in my right hand, I purse my lips and breathe hard through my nose, not unlike a bull that's about to charge. In my left, I'm precariously balancing a pile of exercise books to be returned while my fingers just manage to grip the corner of the class register I have to fill in by 3pm.
I slowly make my way down the grimy corridor that already stinks of sweat and body odour yet to be introduced to deodorant. There are groups of students everywhere. The bell has just rung, and loungers always dash out to make full loafing use of the two minutes it takes for the next teacher to arrive. They just stand looking over the balconies into the distance as if they were prisoners given a two minute fresh air break before trooping back into their cells.

What is this life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare...' my thoughts drift to that breezy poem by William Henry Davies. Maybe he had a point.

I clear my throat loudly, announcing my presence with an "excuse me", to clear the path ahead, because just one nudge would send the pile of books tumbling across the corridor. They part like the Red Sea of course, lest I should ask for some help.

I step into the darkened cave the "doves" have somehow gotten accustomed to as a classroom and glimpse the sleepy, uninterested eyes that greet me. So much potential.

I find the switch, saying "let there be light", and flick on the bright florescent bulbs. Unfortunately, this "enlightenment" goes unappreciated, as I'm immediately greeted by groans and protests. They squint and scrunch up their faces, shielding their eyes. One girl goes so far as to swing her bag over her head to escape the "deadly glare"

"What are you... vampires?" I ask, my face showing mock concern, barely concealing a smirk.

 Silence..They don't get it. This too shall pass.

A muffled voice shouts "Teacher. No. light."
It is bag girl from beneath her sack.