Reckless Wreckers of Shelf

My desk is now tidy, and has been newly uncovered as the Place to Be, for rubber bands. However, the huddled masses of unusable stationary appreciators shall have to wait, as for the next four days, (and fragments of days afterwards) this desk shall be the official site of frenzied studying.

To take our minds away from the looming madness, for at least a moment, let us hark back to simpler days, and remember the joy of “Library Lessons.”

It is difficult to remember a time when whole lessons, or double lessons could be whiled away with a good book. They would begin in silence, with the class seriously contemplating the symbolism in “Tracy Beaker,” the underlying message in “Dizzy Lizzy,” and the world issues addressed in “Uncanny.” Then, one person would whisper a question to the next, the person sitting opposite would answer…the sound level would escalate so consistently that it would be possible to graph. The next thing we knew, a shelf would be lying on the floor, the books having been assisted in their bid for escape by a wayward elbow. The ensuing “SHHHHHH!!!” would bring dead silence, and the process would start again…

This was not always the case for these lessons however, because about once a term, the peacefulness of this process would be broken up by the violent struggle, known as a “Book Introduction.”

Once in a while, a well-intending teacher would sit us all down with a large stack of books, and for that lesson, give us an outline of the plots and storylines, with the idea that we’d select one, then happily go off and read it.

NOT THE CASE!!!

Innocently scattered around the library, we would all listen intently to the presentation. Book upon Book would be described, explained, advertised, then put onto the table. Inevitably, the teacher would come to “The One Book” that would capture at least 73% of the classes attention. After, that, this percentage were deaf to the attempts of other novels, and instead, focused all their attentions on strategies to get to the book first. Girls in the seats would be dejected, knowing that they didn’t stand a change, lest they sacrifice all dignity and lunge across the room at first opportunity. Girls sitting at the table would be more tense. Out of the five or six seated, they would all be painfully aware that the book was there for the taking, if only they could reach there first. However, this had to be done subtly, in order to avoid embarrassment if you failed in your task. Smiling at each other through their teeth, they would edge their hands, slowly, slowly, towards the book, a difficult task, as the rules of engagement dictate that you must never, never break eye contact with your opponent. VICTORY! One would get her hand on the book, and smugly start to pull it towards herself, while the others looked away sheepishly, in an attempt to appear nonchalant. It would always be at this point that the teacher would look up, and take the book back saying something along the lines of “wait until the end.” Thwarted, the ex-victor would sulk for the remainder of the lesson, as hope returned to the hearts of her class-mates.

Though reminiscing, as though this is a phenomena long grown out of, truly, this still happens now. Take for example the English Studies lesson at the end of Semester one, though this particular process was much more complex than it was in the past, seeing as we are now “mature” and so, out of necessity, levels of subtlety have increased exponentially…However, this is not a bad thing, showing that, at heart, we’re still the care-free, exam-less, reckless shelf wrecking, eleven year olds we once were.

Good luck with exam revision everyone!