I could hear my attempt at silence far more clearly than anything else, it was a real tension. The horror of being singled out, lead me to a numb ass, sleeping hands and feet and a total anxiety over making a single audible movement.

I’m just trying to hold still, every slightest movement is accompanied by an eruption of sound. Listen, listen, listen. What do you hear?

Some birds, the water in a pipe, younger kids playing outside, someone’s chewing gum, they stopped, a distant airplane. This is the exercise, listening. What do you hear?

Thinking about it and feeling my heart-rate increase, I can sense that, in my ears, but I’m not too sure that I’m actually hearing it. The pressure is building, if I’m called on, will I have anything that hasn’t already been given? What do you hear?

Birds, kids, airplane, a car door... These are all valid, but are they enough? I need more time, with time I could hear everything there ever was, and no matter what someone else says, I will have a new answer, but I need more time. I keep resettling inward, into myself, I can feel my heart beating in my ears, in my temples, I can feel and hear myself swallow, sinking deeper and deeper, I can hear the liquid process of my stomach.

“That’s enough kids.” The teacher says.

My eyes slowly open to find the rest of the class coming out of this sensory exercise as reluctantly as I am. Did we hear her correctly?

She hasn’t moved, not a single inch. Who has that kind of discipline? I was thoroughly miserable immediately. The worst possible noted sound would have been one I created. In fairness, “What did you hear?”

No one is bold enough to begin this phase, we are now just looking at one another, who should begin.

I should go now, I should speak up, not possible to have nothing if I go first. I immediately know all of this and yet am crippled with fear. I am thinking about all the fear I have about redundancy, about unoriginality, about the mundane, and I have the solution, SPEAK! SPEAK! SPEAK!

This isn’t enough, the attention would be overwhelming, please ma’am, pick me first and let’s be done with it. I am begging her with my mind, while I sit stone still, eyes forward, emotionless. Cosmically she must understand, the fat kid must do everything to be unseen, must not draw attention to himself, must just do his work and get out. Don’t be a target. She finally points to a girl at the other end of the room. “What did you hear?”

“The birds?”
“Great.”

I should have made eye contact with her. I should have just gone first. These are lessons I learn every day, and every day I tell myself to act on these truths, and every day I don’t. To top it off, birds was one of mine. She points to another student.

“What did you hear?”
“Kids playing?”
“Good.”

Another one on my list, please pick me so we can be done.

“What did you hear?”
“An airplane.”
“Great.”

I can feel the panic rising, there’s no rhyme or reason to her choices. She’s not bifurcating the room, or dissecting it, or even going one kid to the next, it’s a completely arbitrary and abstract pattern and it’s left me really stressed out about either not having an original sound our blurting out something unchosen. I don’t know which would be worse and I honestly think I might pee my pants.