The Chronicles of an Awkward Teenager

Getting called on in class when your hand is not raised.

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The Chronicles of an Awkward Teenager

Sydney Raman, Opinion Reporter

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Being quiet. By now I am used to my parents coming back from parent- teacher conferences telling me that my teachers want me to raise my hand more. But what they don´t understand is that, I am quiet and awkward! The pressure of raising my hand in class and answering a simple question takes a lot for a quiet student like me. Whats even worse than that? Just sitting quietly, with my hand not even raised and getting called on.

I´m just sitting in class you know minding my own business. Probably thinking about the viral video of Fergie singing the star-spangled banner. Memes, the usual things I think about on a daily basis. I mean I am paying attention, don’t get me wrong but I mean I am not an eager student who is quick to answering each question. The teacher has asked a question for the class to answer.

“Okay can someone tell me the simplified answer to this equation?” No one answers. This is when the words that are about to come out of my teachers mouth, give me a tiny heart attack. “Okay since no one is raising their hand I am going to randomly call on someone.”

My hands start to sweat and my heart starts beating so fast. I get nervous. ANXIOUS! In that moment my anxiety rises up and bites me in the back. There are a number of questions going through my head. What if I get it wrong? What if everyone in class starts making fun of me? What if I say something completely and utterly irreverent to the subject of the question?

The teachers eyes start to scan the classroom like a hawk. My conscious is saying not to get called on. But what do you know, I get called on. For a second I pretend not to hear the teacher saying my name. But then my classmate sitting next to me taps me on the shoulder. Oh god, now I have to answer the question. Soon everyone’s eyes are starring at me and in my head I think I am actually dying. I stand up slowly and look at the board. “Uh.. the answer is.. um 22.” I sit down quickly and feel a sigh of relief come over me.

The deed is done, but why the heck did I have to stutter so much. The amount of sweat on my forehead makes me look like I just ran a marathon. I feel like maybe I should go to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. Oh no, if I do that, then I have to raise my hand.

That means now, I have to talk again and ask a question. This is even worse!


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