Writing exercise to write 350 words about something boring and make it interesting.
I could see him sitting with his open book hidden under his desk, his eyes floating down, flicking up and glancing back again. His interest in the book increased with every downward look. I didn’t blame Mike for reading. It was music, our least favourite lesson. We hated the plink, plonk of tedious piano music, the rasping of bows across strings, the fluffiness of the flute. We wanted to listen to something with more thump and bass, something more primitive.
Mr Jones our teacher was an OK teacher, except when it came to music.
‘Listen,’ he demanded, ‘Listen to the rhythms, the dynamics. Listen to those soaring notes and multiple overlays.’ None of us cared.
Mike by now was totally zoned out. He was fully absorbed in his book, completely unaware of his surroundings. And then Mr Jones spotted him. Mr Jones glared; he gave a cough. Mike, engrossed, head dipping forward, slowly turned a page. A louder bark from Mr Jones also went unnoticed. The music continued to rise and plummet, filling the classroom with its unfathomable tones. Mr Jones turned backed to his desk and slowly reached into a bag placed there. He quietly pulled out a pair of cymbals. The class looked on with initial curiosity and then with a stunned disbelief as Mr Jones walked silently behind the captivated Mike. I knew I could have given some sort of warning, but a sense of curiosity, heartlessness and above all incredibility, thwarted any decency on my part. And then, with cymbals raised there was a massive crash as Mr Jones slammed the cymbals together above Mike’s head.
We all knew it was coming and still we jumped. Poor Mike. His knees jerked straight, his book smashed into the underside of the desk and his head flew backwards. His hair shot almost vertical and his arms grappled wildly for balance. With his eyes almost popping from his face and his mouth wide, he howled his terror. We all gasped; a stunned silence, then a roar of shocked laughter. Mr Jones had made his point, none of us ever read in music again.
I could see him sitting with his open book hidden under his desk, his eyes floating down, flicking up and glancing back again. His interest in the book increased with every downward look. I didn’t blame Mike for reading. It was music, our least favourite lesson. We hated the plink, plonk of tedious piano music, the rasping of bows across strings, the fluffiness of the flute. We wanted to listen to something with more thump and bass, something more primitive.
Mr Jones our teacher was an OK teacher, except when it came to music.
‘Listen,’ he demanded, ‘Listen to the rhythms, the dynamics. Listen to those soaring notes and multiple overlays.’ None of us cared.
Mike by now was totally zoned out. He was fully absorbed in his book, completely unaware of his surroundings. And then Mr Jones spotted him. Mr Jones glared; he gave a cough. Mike, engrossed, head dipping forward, slowly turned a page. A louder bark from Mr Jones also went unnoticed. The music continued to rise and plummet, filling the classroom with its unfathomable tones. Mr Jones turned backed to his desk and slowly reached into a bag placed there. He quietly pulled out a pair of cymbals. The class looked on with initial curiosity and then with a stunned disbelief as Mr Jones walked silently behind the captivated Mike. I knew I could have given some sort of warning, but a sense of curiosity, heartlessness and above all incredibility, thwarted any decency on my part. And then, with cymbals raised there was a massive crash as Mr Jones slammed the cymbals together above Mike’s head.
We all knew it was coming and still we jumped. Poor Mike. His knees jerked straight, his book smashed into the underside of the desk and his head flew backwards. His hair shot almost vertical and his arms grappled wildly for balance. With his eyes almost popping from his face and his mouth wide, he howled his terror. We all gasped; a stunned silence, then a roar of shocked laughter. Mr Jones had made his point, none of us ever read in music again.