WA2 - SECOND

Mr. Almstedt stood up abruptly, catching everyone's attention as he slammed his ruler on the board pointing towards the different countries he was speaking of. "Here's a way to catch their attention." Almstedt thought to himself.

Jesse sat the back of the class, listing out his homework assignments for the night, counting them off on each finger. His teacher, Mr. Almstedt, was rambling on, blissfully unaware (so he thought) of the lack of interest the class shared in World History. Jesse knew he should be paying attention, because his low C in the class just wouldn’t cut it. But he just couldn’t keep his focus on the usual rubbish coming from his teacher’s mouth. Who cared about history anyway? He tried to concentrate, but instead he could feel himself slowly drifting away…

He thought back to a memory of him trick-or-treating on Halloween. He was dressed as a giant pumpkin, and he was only five. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, making them ache. He and his mother walked up house after house just to hear the sounds of the assortments of candies hitting the bottom of his fluorescent orange pumpkin basket. And then they got there, to the house that little Jesse had dreaded most. They creaked open the iron gate, and slowly approached the house.“Mom…” little Jesse started.“You will be fine,” His mother assured. “Nothing will hurt you, I promise! Just go up to the door, ring the doorbell, and then wait for them to come out.” She smiled at him. Jesse slowly walked up towards the door. He looks back, and his mom waves her hand to tell him to keep going. He turns around and focuses on the porch light ahead. He notices the wicker furniture sitting beside the door. “I can do this, I can do this.” he whispers to himself, conjuring up enough confidence to take the first step onto the porch. He looks up at the ceiling of the porch, ensuring nothing will pop out at him at the last minute. He slowly reaches for the tiny circular doorbell. He hovered his petite fingers over it for a few seconds, until he feels the smooth texture of the button. He wondered how he could be so afraid to press something smaller than his very own hand. His nerves prevented him from pressing it right away. He gathered his courage, and slowly pushed his hand to ring-

“Jesse! Do you know the answer?!” Mr. Almstedt howled. Jesse jumped, now fully awake from his daydream.“No sir. Sorry.” Jesse stated, irritated that he allowed himself to drift off in class again.“Then maybe you should start paying more attention during my class.” said the obviously dissatisfied teacher.But Jesse couldn’t help it. He just could not stand this class. It wasn’t Mr. Almstedt’s fault of course; he had just never understood history. He didn’t understand its significance. It was a giant pain in his neck. He looked down at his history book, trying to read the words that were on it.