The chair under me creaks ominously as I shift my weight. Two young men hold hushed conversations on the battered couch against the far side of the room while their peers sit in their assigned desks, fingers clacking on the keyboards.
A young woman pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and sneaks looks at it as she pretends to work. I know she would hide it away if I called her on having her phone out in class; she doesn't realize that looking down into her lap and smiling every so often gives her away.
Another young men types furiously while his friend sleeps with his head down on the desk beside him.
None of them realize that from my position I can hear them all, see them all, and that they don't fool me for a minute.
It wasn't so long ago that I sat in those desks myself.