I always thought listening was an art and it just needed a spark and there on you were on your own. Determined to turn a new leaf, my thoughts were fixed on listening to the teacher. Sixth grade it was and there was something to it than the primary grades - a motivation to start listening and the making of the new "me". An imaginary fist pump to say 'yes from today' and drifting into the thought of that magical spark moment which will allow me to then stop worrying about exams - its just revision and not learning afresh. The bell rang and I realised the first 45 min had just gone by, the last thing I listened to, was my name called out for the attendance and I promptly lifted my hands and then drifting into the dream 'art of listening'. An introvert, occupying the middle benches, hiding behind the one in front and hoping the teachers would never pick me up for answering questions. It was working my way, except for the english teacher. I just did not have the