Five Minutes

Five Minutes

Tick. Tock. Every eyeball in the class is staring at the clock. Not a breath is heard. The hands on the clock move painfully slow, almost as if time had stopped. Alex has been waiting his entire high school career for this moment. Only five minutes until he gets his report card that will prove his hard work will make his dream of being a doctor a reality. In five minutes he would sprint out the door and announce to the world that he can finally attend his dream school. Everything will change in just five minutes. Alex turns his head towards the door, and a smile creeps up on his face. Only five more minutes.

            "Everybody line up as I call your name" Mrs. Hart screeches. The students leap into the air, terrified, but Alex stands up calmly.

            "What are you so calm about?" Joe whispers.

            "I worked long and hard to get this A. There is no reason that I wouldn't get one," Alex reassures himself. He glances at the clock. 2:56.

            "You do realize that this has nothing to do with your work? Mrs. Hart is too lazy to look at any of it, so all her decisions are arbitrary" Joe amusingly responds.

            "No." Alex scans the room panicked, "NO!" he gasps.

            The hands on the clock move. It's 2:57. But the long-drawn attention moves from the clock to Alex. Nobody is surprised that the sound came from him, since after all Alex doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut, but nobody understands why. Why now?

            Mrs. Hart glares at Alex and questions him. "What? Do you have an issue?"

This is it. Stand up for myself. Explain myself. He contemplates what he wants to do next. Well, there is still a chance that I will get an A, even if it is arbitrary...

"No. Nothing’s wrong." Alex slowly responds.

            "Good. If I call your name you get an A." She announces. "Lexi, Ryan, Tristan, Amber, Christina and-" Sweat trickles down his forehead, and all he hears is his slow steady breathing. One more name. “Joe” she finishes. “Congratulations everybody else grab their report card on the way out, now sit down”.

Alex’s tall stance slouches over, his head angles towards the floor, and he shuts his eyes. He doesn't make a sound. He doesn't even breathe. Joe passes by Alex and whispers, “There’s still a chance you can make it into your college with a B; it’ll just be harder. And if not, you could try to convince Mrs. Hart to change it.”

            “Thanks I’ll think about it. I just-” Alex is abruptly cut off.

            “Whispering is for children. If I hear as much as a squeak out of either of you I will make sure that neither of you get into any college. I have the power to do that. Understand?” Mrs. Hart threatens.

“Yes ma’am.” They answer simultaneously.

He glances at the clock. 2:58. He hears his heartbeat in the back of his head as he walks to the front desk. The classroom is spinning. His arm goes limp as he grabs the report card from her desk.

C-.

“This can’t be happening. It’s not real. I didn't work every waking hour so that I could fail now. Hell, half of these kids don’t do anything! This isn't fair!” During the walk back to his seat he remembers that as long as she is in the classroom, he can attempt to convince her to change the grade. He looks up at Mrs. Hart. She is putting her hair up and getting her tennis shoes on. He still has time.

Mrs. Hart, can I please talk to you. I worked harder than the majority of the students- no. That wouldn't do. Hello Mrs. Hart, I was wondering how you picked your choices because-.  no. That seems too assertive. What use is it anyways? I don’t have any words to use nor if I did would it matter. She has all the power. If she wants us to dance, we dance. That’s what we are. We’re puppets that follow the rules until someone pulls the strings and tangles us up in the mess of life.

            The clock ticks once more. 2:59. He can still do something. Anything.

            Mrs. Hart. I was wondering if I could speak to you about my grade. I feel like I worked harder than anyone else in the class, but I didn't get a passing grade. Would it be possible to change it to a higher one? Yes! That's how I will phrase it!

            The rusty chair scratches against the floor as he moves the chair back to get out of his seat. The sound of his footsteps echo down the room. All the students turn their heads towards Alex. One can’t get out of the seat whenever desired, they need permission. His classmate’s eyes convey fear while their faces display awe. Mrs. Hart doesn't bother to lift her head. The students fidget in their seats, unsure whether to stare or look away.

            Finally, Alex takes a deep breath. “Mrs. Hart. I was-” Over. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. The clock ticks 3:00. The sound of the bell blares down the hallways and echoes into the classrooms

            “Goodbye Alex.” Mrs. Hart gets up and walks out of the room, and the students follow.

            “What’s the point anyways?” Alex thinks looking at the chipped desks. Ms. Hart had been that way from the beginning. A horrible teacher who only cares for her favorites.

He glances back at the page. C-. The sting of the grade feels like lemon juice on a paper cut.

            “Maybe I should have said something. But, I didn't. Why? Because I’m weak and stupid”. He slings his backpack over his shoulder, not bothering to zip it up first. “I’m pitiful. And powerless”

            Tears welled up in his eyes. He shuts them tight to hold it in. He looks at the door, shuffles out, and drops the report card in the trash. “Who needs dreams anyways?” Alex asked himself.