So it was the second to last day of school in eight grade, and the last period of my day was English. Partway through the year, our teacher got about half a class’s worth of those kinetic chairs. You know, the kind with the yoga balls? The teacher went to get some papers from the copy room, and said she’d be back really quickly. And immediately, the room fell into chaos, as it always does. She wasn’t gone for too long, but in the time it took her to get back, the horseplay escalated to the point where this one kid - his name was Foster and he was a Known Troublemaker. He took one of the balls out of the chairs, and threw it up at the ceiling, right as the teacher came back. Everyone froze, and in that two or so seconds of silence, the roof tile he’d hit fell down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher look quite as tired in my life.