They stare at their books, at me, out the window. They nod their heads to that tantalizing beat, a siren pop song they can't resist. Today, the easygoing drone of the teacher carries over the cool breeze, promising an early summer swelter.

I stare out the window, at them, at my textbook. I try very hard not to think about anything but what I am doing. I listen for cues in Japanese so I know when I have to speak or talk or think. It's particularly difficult today. The two cups of coffee I drank in the morning before class isn't making a dent.

I speak. They repeat. The teacher drones. I speak. They repeat. The teacher drones.

We all want to be anywhere else. But here we are.