Face-Off

(This came from a writing journal I kept during my freshman year of college.)

He sat there, nervously flipping through his notes as he tried to continue. But as he drawled on, he became more and more confused. The audience as a whole had become restless, silently begging him to stop. A few of the spectators sat there pitying him, for they knew the experience themselves. The professor stopped again, tried to remember what the discussion was on, and when he realized that he couldn't, sheepishly asked for comment on what he had said. Seconds of dead silence followed.

A tiny voice floated from the group asking him to comment on a topic covered in the reading. Relieved, the professor pulled himself up to his acquired stature, and answered with a long elaborate response. Then realizing he was lost again, asked for additional comments. This time no response came. Unbearable silence followed before the instructor realized no relief would come from his audience. With slightly trembling hands he picked up the class roll, looked at it, and called out a name.

Among a crowd of daydreamers, letter-writers and compulsive note-takers, a student was aroused. The sound of his name had shattered his fantasy before its anticipated ending. Half offended and embarrassed, he fixed his attention upon the source of the word. He had no idea of what was happening and less a desire to find out. From his expression, the professor knew it. The two of them stared at the other, hoping the other would save him, both knowing the other wouldn't.

Surrendering, the instructor glanced at the clock and a look of relief came over his face. Stating that time had run out, he dismissed the class and began preparing for his next lecture. As the rumble of feet filled the room, he quietly wiped the moisture from under his eyes.

Copyright (c) 1977 John Gerner