“Behold the future!”Ms. Eaton exclaimed, as she removed the sheet with a flourish, revealing three cardboard boxes. Then she laughed probably expecting us to join in but we didn’t. It was a therapy class for ADHD. There were only three of us besides the teacher. The three cardboard boxes had the numbers 1, 2 and 3 written on them. “Are you excited to know what’s in these?” she chirped. “Nope” the three of us replied in unison and resumed tapping our feet. Ms. Eaton sighed and walked to the board. She turned to us with another overtly cheerful expression,“well, we could try something new….but before that repeat what I said in the beginning of the class.” “Something about humming birds?” Jude asked. (I think that was last week). “I never talked about humming birds with anyone.” Ms. Eaton stated with a fake smile plastered on her face (oh). “About …them.” I said gesturing to the boxes. “Great work Cody” she sung out. “I want you guys to try an activity. Once you get home, imagine your life, five years from now. Once you’re done come to me, and you’ll get to open one of these” she said flipping the boxes around. All three of them had future written on their back. She flashed us another grin and asked “Were you listening?”. Me and Harvey nodded, wasn’t the same for Jude though.
A while later, I was swiveling round in my chair, my knee bouncing relentlessly. Future. I don’t have one. There’s been precisely 0% improvement in my grades. Eaton’s really cheerful about my improvement at paying attention, but she’s cheerful about everything. Every time I hold a book, I start daydreaming about playing guitar. I was good at, well, nothing. That’s it, I’m done. Might as well go to Eaton, and state that I’ve thrown in the towel. I slowly made my way to her house and walked in through the back door (we could enter any time for ‘guidance’). I stared at the three boxes presently on her dining table. “You here already?” I heard her say from behind me. “Ms. Eaton, I…..” “Open box no.2” “Listen, I….” “No.2”. I huffed and walked over to the boxes. Seriously, we were fifteen. It’s just silly writing future on boxes and making us open them. How does it help in therapy? I opened the box grudgingly, because Eaton was stubborn. The box was empty. “Huh” I said looking at her startled. She smiled and walked over. “Your problem Cody, Is that you’ve got absolutely zero self-confidence. ADHD though incurable, can be reduced. You’ve got great potential. Grades aren’t everything” “But my future’s still empty” “It isn’t empty; it’s just hidden, because you’re hell-bent on believing that you’re hopeless.” I looked into the box again; the bottom looked thicker than the sides. At that I turned it upside down. A piece of cardboard dropped out along with a slip of paper. I lifted the slip “Barking Hoop Records Talent Hunt?” I asked dumbfounded. The talent hunt was cool and everything but the participation passes were a steep fetch. The fact that I was holding one was overwhelming. “I’ve watched you sneak into the music lab after school. I might’ve overheard your sessions. You’re stellar.” She said beaming. I grinned at her. I’ve only dreamt about participating in BHRTH. My family wasn’t interested in it, and I couldn’t spare its price. “Thanks for this” I said waving the pass. “No problem, my cousin works for them” she said opening the door. I raised an eyebrow and walked out. A little way out, I managed to tear my eyes from the pass and barrel down the street.
By: Akanksha Mahapatra