Daily Prompt: Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?
When I was ten, I was sitting in a maths lesson learning how to use a calculator properly (apparently it’s not that simple). My maths teacher at the time was a six-foot tall man in his early thirties – I’ll call him Mr W – and the type of guy that had the ability to get on with everyone and make a whole class like him. Except for that day – he wasn’t in such a great mood. One of his pupils from another class came in and told him that he had lost his mock maths paper. The teacher had that look in his eye – the look of pent up impatience and irritation. “Have you looked in your tray?” He asked the boy, who replied with a yes and then walked out of the classroom. About five minutes later once we had started some work, the teacher walked over to the boy’s tray, pulled it open and low and behold, there was the boys ‘lost’ paper. The teacher got a mad glint in his eye. He pulled the tray from it’s slot, slammed the door open and stormed into the classroom next to ours where the boy was in his lesson. The poor teacher in that room looked terrified. Mr W threw the tray onto the carpet so hard that pieces of it broke off and screamed at the boy (when I say scream, it was the scary, roaring, manic type). Conveniently, there was a window in the wall between both classrooms so of course everyone in my class ran over to watch. Not me. I was terrified. I felt shaky and had a weird numb feeling come over me – I did not want to get on the wrong side of this man today. After a minute or so, Mr W walked back into our classroom (everyone had run back to their seats) clutching the broken tray in his arms. He set the plastic down and looked at us, then smiled. “Now, where were we?”