I disliked negative attention and therefore often neglected to raise my hand during class discussions. Of course, if the truth shall be made known, I so despised directing another's gaze, that virtually any attention was, from my point of view, "negative." Therefore, if I raised my hand, I wished to be certain my statement was correct and sometimes went as far as writing my answer on paper so that I would not stumble on my own tongue, as was my habit in a stressful situation. Another habit, however, sometimes impeded my valiant intentions. That, by name, was day-dreaming. Having an innate stubbornness within me, I would foster ill-will toward subjects which, despite my greatest effort, I failed to grasp; enter, day-dreaming. Such was the case with an "Honors English" class which I made the mistake of accepting. The class was basically the duplicate of "regular" tenth grade English but wielded a decidedly tougher grading scale and a faster pace. Only one of the three teachers who taught the over-sized class had sensible expectations of the students and a personality which reflected no favoritism among her subjects; unfortunately, I was lucky enough to study under her guidance only the last semester. The first semester I fell under the instruction of one of the other women; she was single, opinionated and sharp-tongued, and had the habit of dissecting the least complicated story into shreds of symbolism and hidden meaning which would have amused the authors to no end had they been alive to contest her brave statements. The teacher had no room for differing opinions; the only way to succeed on tests was to regurgitate that which she had proclaimed as having relevancy or truth. Reflecting on her marital status, I quickly understood. Seated in English class one day, I found myself lured from the discussion momentarily to exercise some uninvited thought. When I returned my awareness to the classroom the teacher was looking around the room for a volunteer to answer her last question. I decided to raise my arm to reply, and she nodded that I should speak. After giving my answer, the teacher studied me indifferently and remarked, "That answer has already been given." I shifted uneasily in my chair, deciding to follow the lesson more closely. Several questions later, another multiple-answer question was presented to the class. Hands went up around the room and answers rushed into the teacher's ears. A favorite student raised her hand to offer a reply, and when bidden to speak, her answer was a virtual carbon copy of the previous speaker's. The instructor smiled at her pleasantly. "That answer has already been mentioned, however, since it is of such consequence, I'm glad you repeated it." I stared in disbelief and knew that I had no hope of winning under conditions as deplorable as those I had just witnessed.