The light was shone during a sunny afternoon in a bored classroom. Not much to it, just a little girl and her mother sitting down and opposite of us was a teacher doing the same action. Some chitter-chatter was coming from other students, but from a distance so not that much noise was apparent. Given that it’s a sunny day, it was June, the end of the school year where flowers have bloomed and the scorching heat melts ice cream. What I see in front of me is a hopeful teacher, what I see on the right of me are desks, completely bare and empty, on the left of me, my mother, lastly above me, a beige ceiling, concealing the room. Sense of smell doesn’t do me justice here, but it smells like a classroom, from what I recall a classroom smells like. Or, I can twitch my nostrils and whiff the air around me.  I am pretty much burning, not because of the heat but the tension I am sensing. What is going on in my head? Am I processing what I’m hearing or processing what I want to hear? My mother is listening to all the circumstances, and the probable outcome. What my brain is saying, “I am dumb.” My mother wasn’t disappointed or mad at me, which I found odd, because I was assuming she would be. At the time I couldn’t  wrap my head around the fact I would be repeating second grade. However, with that being the best choice for myself in moving forward to be in school, I wouldn’t have it any other way.