Decoding eyes at school

Forget WiFi, We Can Only Survive On EyeFi

Radhika Agarwal, AIS Vas 1, X D

If we stare too long, people assume their entire existence is being judged; blinking too much, makes us appear like walking catastrophes. Humans once used their eyes to detect predators. Now we use ours to detect awkwardness, threat, drama, and most importantly, whether a surprise test is coming. Here are some eye-conic instances from school, guaranteed to make you roll your eyes, respectfully.

Bestie telepathy
One glance at your best friend and they immediately know everything, from how you are begging to escape history class to how desperately you are counting minutes till lunch. One glance and you know you are ‘in the same boat, except this boat is sinking rapidly.

“Save me!” stare
A surprise test lands like a meteor. Students silently scream, “What!” Eyes shoot across the room, exchanging answers without a sound. Morse code is outdated. Gen Z invented the blink code. One blink means “help.” Two blinks mean “What is question three?” Three blinks mean “goodbye forever.”
Last looks
The final bell rings. Bags zip at lightning speed. Everyone’s eyes meet in a silent celebration. Another day survived. No speech or confetti cannons required.

Parental glares
Parents return home after assigning tasks. Spoiler: none were completed. Instead, the room resembles a natural disaster. Their fiery eyes meet with our cheerful ones. We instantly transform into startled pigeons.
Looking at late-comers
Every class has one latecomer who arrives with a new excuse daily. “My dog ate my timetable,” “A black cat crossed the road,” Teachers no longer react. Their eyeroll alone says, “Try harder, please.”

Hope. Then Maths.
A boring mathematics class is underway when news spreads. “Substitute teacher!” Hope rises instantly. Students exchange bright glances until the substitute says the dreaded, “Open your textbook.” Silence. Hope destroyed beyond repair.

The fake stare
This is survival at its finest. You maintain intense eye contact with the teacher so they never call on you to solve mind-numbing trigonometry equations or explain the Russian Revolution. Your glare convinces the teacher of your (feigned) focus.

Looking for answers
You are mid-presentation when your brain crashes. Blank. You stare at your friend, hoping for rescue. You start blinking rapidly, building up for a typical, “There’s something in my eye” excuse, but truly, you are begging for help.

Eye contact became the strongest subject in school. No notes, no lectures, only chaos and unspoken communication. Scientists may call it body language. Students call it survival. And if eye contact were a real academic subject, we would all be toppers for sure.