The clock didn't seem to show any empathy either. It simpily took it's time. Which is generally considered to be the thing that clocks do best. After another one and a half hours, i finished my paper as best i could and sat back. As i conservatively looked around it came to me that i had no intention of ever taking maths again. I'm sure, just like an old school friend, i'll bump into it in some unexpected place a few years from now and i'm sure, just as i would an old school friend, i'll miss it deep down somewhere in a relativley dormant part of my brain. This was the end of an era, an escape from education for a month of two and a goodbye to the much loved shackles of school uniform. Sure i'd be going on to sixth-form, but it would never be the same again. It scares be that we're all growing up so fast, in two years i'll be eighteen and leaving home. I'm pretty sure that theres going to be some change. Admittedly, either for the best or for the worst, but i'm almsot as sure, thats how it goes.
The clock decided to finish and we were all told to silently stand and sensibly walk out of the room. This didn't happen, there was a sudden wave of questionary chatter which moved across the room like a coughing fit. Floods of nieghbouring students pushed through into the corridor outside in a manic stampeed of school shoes and quite possibly the odd trainner as well. I walked over to the desk, a task which shouldn't be difficult but today was, sliped off my blazer, brushed it down slightly with my hand and placed into the box for spares. A mist of emotion surrounded me, which in the future maybe nostalgia. I kept my tie.