The bell signalled that it was time, and everyone left - leaving me sitting upstairs in the sixth form block. The room is empty now - silence except for the chatter of classes across the corridor. I can make out comments such as "second fuck forty quid" , and "I don't believe it", but they are of such minimal consequence that they are barely worth mentioning - so in fact please forget that I did.

Its within five minutes of the beginning of the final, third, period of the day and the road outside has cleared. The talk from behind mentions the art of photographing someone's penis, and about how the "wide panoramic" wasn't enough. now the lessons have begun and its near silent all around.

Outside, still a couple of individuals scuttering between various places, running errands, but nothing consistent. A nice cool breeze blows in from the outside and I am reminded that I am not quite dead yet.

I stop to look in disgust at the once dominant playing field outside. Reduced to a dusty enclosure by the advance of the other buildings. Sixth form, tennis courts, creative/physical blocks, and even a car park - all reducing the available area into a run down garden sized turf.

The weather is humid, despite it being gloomy outside, and whilst there is a gentle cool breeze entering from the windows ahead of me, it is still hot inside. I contemplate leaving the room to possibly talk to ElCid who was reported by James as being alone during this free period since Monk is away, but remember that any report from James is likely to be deceiving.

In the distance, layers of trees. The first maybe 500m away, slightly hazy and then each layer slightly more grey than the last until they merge with the sky in practical infinity. Look closely and you might be able to make out that last layer in the everlasting westerly direction. The boredom escalates, and so I stand up to move into the LRA. To maybe see some friends.

Sixteen minutes have passed.

After giving Webb details about some impending maths work, I look around to see Chris, Ed, ElCid, and a few others. Each sitting in their own little silence whilst I sit with those in the centre. More lively. Here my silence is seen as different. No one asks where I have been sitting for the past quarter of an hour. The room is more empty that usual, but is by no means void of life.

I question why my handwriting has become so scruffy - and then shake Big Daves hand. Those people with neat handwriting, and those who have taken the expensive gas-lift chairs. I envy.

To my right, Pandy is making a list of forms that he could join the next year. I asked him about K12, and he spent five minutes describing exactly how there was/is/may never be a K12.

He then leaned forward, looked at the next form on the list, and says:

"Hmm, K12 - I don't think that ill mind going in... wait a minute!"

...before giving me the standard "stop being an idiot" expression. In case you havn't been keeping track of the joke, let me inform you that I added to his list when his back was turned.

Only forty minutes have passed and a few people that I know have already been threatened with exclusion from the room by 'planet of the apes'. I see a single computer with its monitor pointing directly at me, many others are free but I am drawn to this one as its almost staring at me, trying to get my attention, trying to get my fingers on its buttons. Its appealing to me.

I get up and walk over.

I spend a few minutes checking the fact that I have no emails, checking the fact that the hosting is down again, and waiting to do a list of things that I have to do for a project involving certain other well known faces.

I gesture Bevan to come over, and then shout at him - realising that he wasn't even looking in my direction. When this fails, I get up and ask him face to face to talk to me about the current situation regarding the project.

We both curse the fact that Dave still hasn't shown us anything, despite us holding the progress of the project to wait for him for at least three weeks to give him a chance. It would seem that he would rather spend his time with Sophie.

An hour has now passed. I keep using the word 'passed' but I only notice this because of the fact that time has passed me by. If it hadn't then, I would be in some three dimensional abyss where time is redundant.

I feel a bit like a slippery stone in the middle of a powerful rapid river run.

The immaturity of certain individuals is highlightedd by the sight of them making the 'fag' hand gestures, and then slapping one anothers overweight chests. I use the word 'overweight' liberally, since I in fact mean that they are over my weight (but then most people are).

Still a muted room, people trying to shout out, but in the end - not making any real hubub. The hullabaloo of silence is in reality more distracting that the calm chatter that I would more generally despise.

After quickly advertising to Bevan and Pandy about fact that our form room was empty at that time so that it would be possible to get out of the pressured environment. I consider the fact that I should be getting the mathematics out of the way.

We stand up on mass, and move towards the form room. Back to where I began.

I am now sitting exactly where I started, and in the same position. Tom just gave me the idea to write one of those "what can I see from where I am sitting" articles and so I decided that I would give it a go.

What Can I see from where I'm sitting: Sixth Form Experience

The yellow soaking wet field outside.
Six of seven trees, planted in the past year.
A tennis Court. Reaped by puddles.
A broken Chair (inside).
Shields collection of post cards and older women (most notably Carol Smiley) on the notice board to my right.
A man in blue with a big green bin.

Just as I enter a complex philosophical debate with Andrew and Tom about how everything is based on evolution, about the people who are stupid enough to disagree with the idea, and about how our view of the universe is very limited (with help from Andrews plagurised diagram) - it begins to rain.

The diagram, or more specifically, the graph - was reported as being featured in New scientist, and looked something like this:

[GRAPH]

So this proved very, very little about nothing in particular. It did prove however, that no matter how many things I could possibly list as being able to see - it would never be any comparison to the things that I would be unable to list.

Now Andrew is trying to prove to me that a supernova is totally massive threw the use of a few hundred digits. This is whilst one or two rogue people wander through, mistake us for a "private maths lesson" (which in reflection sounds rather gay), and then leave with various personal belongings.

Ashwell returns for a second time (despite a barrage of insults) to tell us that she is going to be "absolutely fucking soaked", and then soon after everyone leaves. I sit alone for a second to finish the sentence, and then the bell rings for the final time that I will perceive it, I stand, and leave.

The end of another school day.

Dictionary, Desk, Whiteboard, Overhead Projector.

Article Written by Rawson