Study Time

There were days during the week that you were given free time to catch up on your homework, or to read a book, or just sit there and vegetate. These moments were called Study Hall. A grand notion, a generous gift-time to do homework in school so you could be free to pursue other interests after the bell to go home had rung.
The only problem was, the places they picked for us to "study".
I had Study Hall in the auditorium of all places. Sitting in auditorium seats without a surface to write on, so your biggest book or your three ring binder became a desk top. If the subject you had homework in was in your biggest book, well then you might be out of luck. There was no place else to put the rest of your books and other stuff you might be carrying. Oh, you could try and place them on the seat next to you, but it would keep trying to close up on you, or your books would slide down to the floor. It was a juggling act. We looked like the Three Stooges at an informal dinner party, trying to balance plates on our knees.
The lighting was dim to non-existent, and most of the time my pen or pencil would pop through my paper from the lack of a proper hard surface to write on. My papers would be sliding out from under me, and those slippery book covers meant the occasional avalanche of text books sliding under the seats in front of you.
You could tell that teachers did not appreciate having to do Study Hall duty. They approached it with an air of resentment, that "I don't want to be here any more than you do" attitude. They patrolled the Study Hall like prison guards, looking for any signs of conversation and prodding those just sitting there to do something constructive. As if sitting in a semi-dark cavern that's too cold from the air-conditioning without proper seating was conducive to scholarly endeavors.
The cafeteria wasn't much better, but sometimes there I was sitting at one of those long tables jammed in with the rest of my classmates, shoulder to shoulder. The lighting was better, but there wasn't a lot of room if you needed to spread out, and the wardens were there to keep us all in line.
I tried. I tried to do my homework in Study Hall, but it was next to impossible for me, so I just perfected the art of looking busy. I could stare at a book with the best of them, or just doodle for the entire hour or so, looking like I was deep in thought.
There were the rebellious among us. A defiant sneer at the teacher when told they should be doing something, or an out and out protest, usually resulting in them being sent out of the room, something they wanted anyway.
For the vast majority of us, we kept our heads down buried in our books.
That is, if we could keep them from falling to the floor.