The cafeteria was abuzz with a nervous excitement. Rows of black chairs were placed symmetrically centered, flanked on either side by circular lunch tables, all facing the ultimate position of power for the human language: the microphone.

Tracy Jennings, the humanities teacher, stepped up to the microphone following a rapturous applause brought in by the hush of crowd and student alike. The educator took a breath, introduced the event and her prized students, and began her poem titled Numbers.

After the richly emotional poem concluded, the students one by one and pair by pair, took to the stage to recite their minds.

The first pair to take the stage had begun their poem, roughly halfway through their piece about school induced stress, the fire alarms went off. The alarms, whatever their cause, began to blare obnoxiously over the event, completely drowning out the poets. After an awkward twenty minutes of heavy snacking and waiting, the alarm ceased, the first pair finished their poem and the show went on.

That is, until the second poet took the stage. A single poet, as opposed to the previous pair, nervousness painted the face of the girl as she stood in front of a crowd. She began her poem, and the fire alarm started again, lasting this time around only five minutes. After this alarm finished its annoyance, the girl retook the stage and presented a well-thought poem.

The night from there went smoothly, with only a few more screams of the fire alarm. Tears were shed, laughter was spread and the night ended with a subtle crowd-wide feeling of bliss.