Corners of copybooks, folded meticulously, forward, back, and forward again. Nails run along the seam. Paper ripped carefully away, silently. Ready for action. Those jagged scraps were decorated with love hearts and declarations of eternal love, or, if class was less engaging, snide comments on the teacher’s hair, handwriting, or the state of her. Bravery was when a four-letter word sneaks onto those messages, something we’d never dare say aloud but were willing to slide under desks. Folded small and released into the wild, our thoughts crisscrossed the classroom. Passed with nudges, winks, and frantic head nodding in the direction of the intended recipient. And in a moment, it was received, unfolded, and read. A giggle, a nod, a furtive look back at the sender and she pulled her copybook toward her, folding a corner neatly down.
By Sinéad O’Rourke
