Her hand stretches to its limit, reaching, further and further into the sky even though it can’t possibly go any higher.  Each finger gropes the air above it one at a time while she waits, her backside hovering just above her seat.  She breaks the momentary silence with the loud smack of her gum.  Finally, when her name is called, her tense body relaxes, and she plops back into her seat.  She tilts her head off to the side and begins to twirl the strands of her hair between her fingers.  They wrap around and around it, forming a little brown corkscrew until it slips of and she starts again.  She opens her mouth, exposing the shiny white source of the smacking noise to everyone around her.  As she begins to speak, the sound of her voice gets quickly gets higher until it peaks and then falls a bit lower again.  She continues on with her detailed description of some event in these repetitive tones, elongating the time it takes her to do this by inserting “like” every few words.  As she tries to get closer to the point she stops abruptly, a voice overpowers hers.  The teacher calls on the next student.