doodling in words

And yet, in the end, the kids of 7B would still erupt into a frantic craze of yelling and play. I wonder if we would ever learn to be quiet and disciplined and motivated. The way the teachers want it. Sometimes when it rains, the classroom would turn dark. Combined with the sound of the powerful torrents outside and the howling wind rattling at the windows, the room became something like a clown’s version of a haunted house. The chatter was like that of monkeys rampaging through forest canopies. A parade of shouting and chaos. It was a jungle. Meanwhile, the teacher sat at the front of the class, waiting patiently for the class to quiet down, fanning herself to keep cool in this wretchedly hot room.

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