He prayed that she didn’t call him up to the front of the class. Their eyes locked and he just knew she was going to call his name. He sunk down in his chair and tried to hide behind his textbook. She scanned the room before continuing her lecture. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and went back to his real work, drawing. That’s how he escaped the monotony that had become AP English. While she rattled on about Chaucer, Dickens, Dumas and the rest, he created entire worlds in his sketchbook. Sometimes he even used her lectures as inspiration, like the time he drew a picture of William Shakespeare riding a fire breathing dragon while the class discussed Romeo and Juliet. He was bright back to reality by the bell ringing, so he quickly packed up his belongings and scurried out of the classroom.

The next morning, he walked into class and told himself that he was going to pay attention. In his heart, he knew it was wrong to daydream and draw in the middle of class. He took a seat at his desk and sat up straight in his chair. But just as she got into a long monologue from A Tale of Two Cities, his mind began to wander. He furiously shook his he’d and retrained his focus on his teacher’s words. He tried his hardest to visualize the scene she was reading. Before he knew it, he was sketching his vision on a piece of notebook paper. And that’s when it happened. “Mr. Williams,” she beckoned from the front of the class, “Would you like to share your thoughts on the selection?”

Hearing his name being called instantly snatched him back to the real world. He sat up straight and looked around, slightly bewildered by what was happening. He looked up at his teacher, who was staring directly back at him. He slowly rose from his seat and started to walk towards the front of the room. “And please bring whatever it is you’ve been working on for the last few minutes,” she added. The knot in his throat was the size of an old Buick. He reached back and grabbed the notebook from his desk and continued his death march towards the front.

When he arrived, she reached out for his notebook. Hesitantly, he handed it to her and waited for her response. She studied the paper for what seemed like forever. Finally, she handed it back to him ad said, “Please share with the class what you’ve been doing.” He looked at her and just blinked, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing his confusion, she stood up, grabbed a dry erase marker and handed it to him. “Please reproduce your work on the board behind you,” she clarified. By now, he was sweating bullets. He sat the notebook down on the desk, removed the cap from the marker and began to draw.

When he was done, he turned to face his fellow classmates. The looks on their faces ranged from astonished to inspired. “You’re a incredible artist,” she chimed in, “Do you think you could do this for me with every reading selection for the rest of the semester?” He meekly nodded his head before returning to his seat.