Coppell Observer is a humorous weekly column about life as a teenager. Please be warned that any and all sass is due to the writers’ similar situation as teenagers (even though we feel so much older). You, the reader, should not take any of the words seriously. Seriously. If this article makes you laugh, leave a comment.

You know that moment when your teacher passes out a test, and once you look at it you can vividly see your (halfway) decent grade flushing down a drain? You cannot deny it. You know you know that moment.

For some, that moment comes around every time a teacher passes out a test in a particular subject.

It is not your fault though, right? When the teacher is going over an important topic, your mind just lingers on whatever irrelevant thoughts pop into your mind. Your ears automatically tune out the teacher as your favorite song plays in your head. Your hands compulsorily begin doodling over your important papers.

All against your will.

Often times, your head is also pounding, only making it harder to focus. But that is definitely not correlated to you procrastinating and binging Netflix instead of sleeping. At least that is what you tell yourself.  

Your mind seems to be forbidden from concentrating on the board, even if you desperately need to because you already have no idea what is going on. The two forces inside you- one fighting to pay attention, and the other to drift off – are constantly engaged in a vicious battle. The latter usually wins, for some reason – maybe it has been spending more hours in the gym, or has access to sharper swords.

All this means you are in danger of extreme public shame if your teacher asks you to answer a question. If you do get called on, say you have to run to the bathroom. It will not be suspicious at all, I promise. Everyone will think it was a total coincidence that your bladder filled up the moment the teacher asked you for an answer.

I better get a “thank you” for that bathroom trick and not some useless verbal thank you. Pay up with some good food. Preferably Italian.  

Anyway, hit me up next time you are fighting a violent mental brawl in a desperate attempt to focus in class. We can suffer together.