WOODEN DOLPHIN Lindsay Hirschman

WOODEN DOLPHIN, Lindsay Hirschman

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THE IMPORTANCE OF SCHOOL WORK (II), Faith Neo

It’s kind of funny. I was running on the treadmill. But I wasn’t just running. I was balancing my phone in my left palm and sending out emails. One to my French teacher. One to my debate club. One to Coach Jens. After I was done sending out my emails and onto my second mile, I put on some music, and I put my phone down. I was so tired. The lull of the treadmill and the repetitive motion of my feet hitting the track made me close my eyes. Then I fell asleep while running. Twice. It’s kind of funny.

Once, I got a notification on my phone. Your Physics grade is now an F. That wasn’t good. That was bad. That was horrible. What was I going to do? I thought about the last test we took. I’d stayed up late studying for it. I was so sure I understood the unit. Maybe I hadn’t participated enough. No, there’s no way—I think I participated too much in that class. Anyway, that sucked. Once colleges saw this, they wouldn’t want me. What was I supposed to say to my parents? I failed Physics? Wow, I must be dumb. Maybe I’ll just get a real estate license. Maybe I don’t have to get a job. I can survive without one, right? Ding. Your Physics grade is now an A. Note from teacher: Hey guys! Sorry for the shock, I entered the last test out of 1000 instead of 100—my bad! I’ve made the appropriate adjustments; have a great weekend! Once, I got a notification on my phone.

I can’t believe I left my homework at home. School starts in 20 minutes. If I hurry, I could run home and grab it. It’s 7:15 am. Shoot. After endless sprinting, I have my backpack, and I’m back at school. I trudge through the hallways to find my first period class. Room 715. I’m running, but I’m gradually getting slower. It feels like there are weights on my feet. My head is getting really hot, and I feel sweaty. There are other kids in the hallways. They smile and wave at me. I don’t know them. I try to walk away, but I am walking so slowly that I’m barely moving. I look back at the kids, and they don’t seem to notice my predicament. They smile again, but this time their smiles don’t stop getting bigger. Their mouths keep stretching wider and wider. I’m horrified. Luckily, I seem to have regained the use of my legs, so I sprint away. After running for an hour or so, I find it. Room 715. I find my seat. I open my backpack to pull out my homework. I find that there’s nothing in there but a huge abyss. More importantly, I can’t believe I left my homework at home.