The paper planes fly over you,
A swish as a note flies over your head,
Whispering to one another,
‘I don’t get it, do you?’ they said.

All these things you hear
as you take a stab at the challenge,
but you’re the only one.

One mumbles to another,
And then they ask the teacher,
One boy says he has an idea,
Then a friend asks to feature.

All these things you hear
as you bury your head in your hands,
willing it to be silent.

Finally people start to settle,
Still fidgeting, but better,
Murmurs from other classes,
Sure don’t help when you’re trying to write a newsletter!

All these things you hear
as you start to finish up,
the room is finally quiet.