Sitting in a room full of students, some of which i know, others i don’t. All of which are teenagers just laughing and having a good time. And here I am, also having a good time with friends but at the same time writing this essay. This is the point at which i realize that the one person who ties this group together isn’t present.
The realization as forementioned causes me to begin to ponder. As i sit here, pondering in deep thought, my friend sitting next to me asks me what I’m doing. Of course I am in my own little world in deep thought and am too preoccupied to answer because of these thoughts. These thoughts begin to disturb my innermost being.
These thoughts that the teacher, a man whois suppose to mold my feeble mind so that I one day may be able to impact the world, isn’t here. These thoughts plague my conscience because I am now beginning to believe that this entire class period had been a complete waste of my time. The thoughts soon begin to go away and anxiety begins to set in. Anxiety because I realize that i am just wasting my time when i should be getting an education.
The thoughts still exist thought. The questions that overrun ones’s mind in a time of crisis. Where is this man? He should be here teaching and molding his student’s minds. Did he get lost? Has his old age kicked in and caused him to not realize what’s going on? I believe he has forgottten about us. Now we are all still sitting here, talking, carrying on as we did when the class began. He forgot about us, now this I can believe.
Now he walks in. Carrying on with his everyday good morning class routine. Sitting at his computer, attempting to decipher the complex puzzle to the aged generation that is todays’s technology. Not even realizing that he has wasted an entire class period and by doing so wasting an hour of our lives. Then the bell rings and we all leave the class, feeling incomplete and now it is now that I realize that I guess my belief is faulted because he has made an appearance in the classroom, thus showing that he hasnt completely forgotten about his class. Which means I guess I now have nothing to believe. And a life without belief is, well that’s an entirely different essay on belief all in itself.
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