Stormy Class Room

Ms. Anastis had a spacious room. Wide, and gray, it was broken into three sections. One section was a gathering place. An amphitheater, were the children would sit, and Ms. Anastis would read. I always loved reading time. Soothing words, make for good nap times. The second section was the math section. Despite the section's colorful beads, and proportioned blocks, I hated it. The last section was defined by one feature, a gigantic glass window. The window pane was broken into distinct parts by iron supporting bands, criss-crossing the sleek surface, breaking the outside world into its own pieces. The window was a source of sunlight, happiness, and on one particular day, terror mixed with embarrassment. One day, the sky turned sour. Then the wind kicked up, and started flailing the trees. My fear of Tornadoes crept into my mind. The oppressive humidity made my skin sweat. The walls of the classroom started sneaking up on me, closing in slowly, delaying the breakdown. Storms, clouds, lightning, rain, I feared it all. A warm sensation spread down my legs, I knew I was in trouble. I stood there by the window, pants dripping, head hung, trying not to turn and look at the rest of the class. Suddenly, the storm wasn't important anymore, just changing my underwear.