It was different from
other exams she’d had to invigilate. The students weren’t sitting in rows at
little desks. They were in semi-circle, tucked behind their easels. There was
the normal exquisite silence however. But not the apprehension. She could tell
by their faces that they were engaged and committed, ready to show off their best.
They worked away with their pencils, brushes and charcoal sticks, never getting
eye-contact with her or with each other.
Sun streamed through
the large window, colouring the parquet floor toffee. Particles of dust floated
in the light. She could see snowdrops outside and the crocuses looked ready to
burst into flower. Even the daffodils had stems.
Still no sound
except that of the pencils, brushes and charcoal sticks on the paper and
occasionally of swirled water. She was warm and calm. It was so much easier to
be here than in a class of fourteen-year-olds trying to distract her. Nobody could
touch her here. Nobody could make any demands.
The students were
working on a still-life. A tray of cheeses, a crusty loaf and a glass of celery
sticks had been tastefully arranged on a table covered with a cream cloth. Each
student saw it differently, she realised
as she walked behind them and as unobtrusively as possible looked at each one’s
work. It was not just because they were looking from slightly different angles.
Stylised celery, here, almost a photograph there and one or two seeming to have
no connection at all with what was on the table.
Someone should have
come to relieve her by now, but she didn’t care; she was enjoying being inside
this bubble. But she was hungry as there’d been no time for breakfast. She’d overslept
a little because she’d been marking her own exam papers until 4.00 a.m. that
morning.
Her tummy rumbled.
She reached over and took one of the celery sticks.
The silence was
shattered as she bit into it.
Then it returned,
now more intense, as all activity stopped and twelve pairs of eyes now at last looked
into hers.
No comments:
Post a Comment