Raphael.
When I looked behind me, I see my seated classmates drawing cartoon characters on their notebooks, noisy and my friend Gregory picking his nose. He sees me watching him and smiles. I nod quietly, and look back at the monotonous teacher that continues to ramble on about the relevance of algebraic equations to my daily life.
I zoned out, lowering my head to rest it on my desk. The noise of the class mixed with the teacher's discussion was slowly drowning out as I let my thoughts wander. All of it was simply white noise.
Soccer. Girls. Education. Money. The future. They were ideas that passed by my mind that I like to pick up, tinker with, consider, and then place back down in the messy hallway that is my mind. I was going to keep exploring memory lane until the room abruptly became quiet.
It was a sharp silence. It was a kind of silence that wasn't forcefully requested by the struggling teacher. It was different.
I slowly look around the class first, wondering what my classmates looked like. They were quiet and hushed, and they were obviously facing the teacher in front.
Sir Ethan was standing tall in front of the class, his eyes looking distantly out the window. There was just silence now in the room, and you can feel the students just waiting.
I look over to Gregory: His eyes looked disinterested, his knee shakes up and down rapidly, and his lazy yawn showed how bored he was.
"You know kids, I want to apologize."
An apology? I didn't think I'd hear this when I came to school today. What's wrong, I wonder?
I shuffle in my seat to sit up properly and pay attention, while some of my other classmates continue to zone out and fidget with their pens.
"Math is challenging, but it isn't unforgiving. You're in a great school which your parents worked hard for, and the opportunities and available resources you have here are light years away from what other people have."
Ah, here comes the the guilt trip. Thanks Sir Ethan. By all means, do continue to guilt me into forcing me to do what you want me to do.
"You guys are the elements that innovate and start companies, providing jobs for hundreds if not thousands of people that need a good leader."
"A good leader needs not only to be smart, but also to be wise. There are subconscious lessons being taught to you in class that you aren't aware of, like discipline. Respect. Being responsible."
At this point, I stopped. Sir Ethan makes a good point. I feel a slight tug, feeling a little distracted about all possible fun games that I can play when I get home. But then even with the tugging, I felt compelled to listen.
He finally returns his gaze back to the class, finding many of the students facing him. Even Gregory is quietly noticeably paying attention now, though his eyes are facing the floor.
"Math is only a part of being smart. If you opened your eyes to every day, you'll see that even I am still a student."
There was a slight pause, and then the bell rang.
"At the end of the current chapter there are five pages of exercises. You have a week to finish the first three pages of the exercises."
What the hell. This fucking teacher.
When I looked behind me, I see my seated classmates drawing cartoon characters on their notebooks, noisy and my friend Gregory picking his nose. He sees me watching him and smiles. I nod quietly, and look back at the monotonous teacher that continues to ramble on about the relevance of algebraic equations to my daily life.
I zoned out, lowering my head to rest it on my desk. The noise of the class mixed with the teacher's discussion was slowly drowning out as I let my thoughts wander. All of it was simply white noise.
Soccer. Girls. Education. Money. The future. They were ideas that passed by my mind that I like to pick up, tinker with, consider, and then place back down in the messy hallway that is my mind. I was going to keep exploring memory lane until the room abruptly became quiet.
It was a sharp silence. It was a kind of silence that wasn't forcefully requested by the struggling teacher. It was different.
I slowly look around the class first, wondering what my classmates looked like. They were quiet and hushed, and they were obviously facing the teacher in front.
Sir Ethan was standing tall in front of the class, his eyes looking distantly out the window. There was just silence now in the room, and you can feel the students just waiting.
I look over to Gregory: His eyes looked disinterested, his knee shakes up and down rapidly, and his lazy yawn showed how bored he was.
"You know kids, I want to apologize."
An apology? I didn't think I'd hear this when I came to school today. What's wrong, I wonder?
I shuffle in my seat to sit up properly and pay attention, while some of my other classmates continue to zone out and fidget with their pens.
"Math is challenging, but it isn't unforgiving. You're in a great school which your parents worked hard for, and the opportunities and available resources you have here are light years away from what other people have."
Ah, here comes the the guilt trip. Thanks Sir Ethan. By all means, do continue to guilt me into forcing me to do what you want me to do.
"You guys are the elements that innovate and start companies, providing jobs for hundreds if not thousands of people that need a good leader."
"A good leader needs not only to be smart, but also to be wise. There are subconscious lessons being taught to you in class that you aren't aware of, like discipline. Respect. Being responsible."
At this point, I stopped. Sir Ethan makes a good point. I feel a slight tug, feeling a little distracted about all possible fun games that I can play when I get home. But then even with the tugging, I felt compelled to listen.
He finally returns his gaze back to the class, finding many of the students facing him. Even Gregory is quietly noticeably paying attention now, though his eyes are facing the floor.
"Math is only a part of being smart. If you opened your eyes to every day, you'll see that even I am still a student."
There was a slight pause, and then the bell rang.
"At the end of the current chapter there are five pages of exercises. You have a week to finish the first three pages of the exercises."
What the hell. This fucking teacher.
Comments
Post a Comment