Odd Man Out
Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2018 5:24 am
((Sean Carver continued from http://z10.PLACEHOLDERLINK/SOTF_V2/index.php?showtopic=3800))
Ms. Brody was hardly the most difficult teacher in the Math Wing. Old and probably a year or two away from retirement, she struggled with even the most basic aspects of modern technology, which left her students with little more to work with than their textbooks and the photocopies of her own personal lecture notes she would often pass out at the beginning of class. For Sean Carver, she was quite possibly the easiest math teacher he'd ever met, and he might have even called her his favorite teacher of all time.
After all, in spite of what people liked to think of him, Sean enjoyed an easy "A" as much as any other student. He'd already learned most of the stuff she was talking about in the regular Trig class he took last year, so, for once, he was content to simply relax as best he could. As he leaned back in his seat, he let out a small, contented sigh and thought back to the 95% he'd earned on last week's Calculus test. Contrary to his expectations, the word problems had been much simpler to understand than any of the practice problems the teacher had demonstrated.
But I could have done better. I could've pulled off a 100%.
Yes, yes he could have. If he hadn't pussied out and gone to sleep at two-o'-clock in the morning instead of four-o'-clock as he'd planned. He could've squeezed in at least another hour of practice...
The teacher said something about their textbooks, which brought his attention back to the class. Reaching under his seat, he heard the whole class let out a collective groan as the teacher began rattling off page numbers for their weekend homework assignment.
"Now I'll repeat it again..." Mrs. Brody said as the students began to pack up their things, the sound of zippers being closed forcing her to make a feeble effort at raising her voice. The numbers were sequential, so they were easy enough for Sean to commit them to memory just before the afternoon announcements began to blare out over the PA system. Without even bothering to stay behind to listen to the principal's speech over the PA, he hastily crammed his math books into his camo bag and walked out the door.
Tonight, he'd earned a little downtime. Maybe he'd even try to sit down and watch that movie his dad had gotten from the video store.
(Sean Carver continued That High Speed Chicken Feed)
Ms. Brody was hardly the most difficult teacher in the Math Wing. Old and probably a year or two away from retirement, she struggled with even the most basic aspects of modern technology, which left her students with little more to work with than their textbooks and the photocopies of her own personal lecture notes she would often pass out at the beginning of class. For Sean Carver, she was quite possibly the easiest math teacher he'd ever met, and he might have even called her his favorite teacher of all time.
After all, in spite of what people liked to think of him, Sean enjoyed an easy "A" as much as any other student. He'd already learned most of the stuff she was talking about in the regular Trig class he took last year, so, for once, he was content to simply relax as best he could. As he leaned back in his seat, he let out a small, contented sigh and thought back to the 95% he'd earned on last week's Calculus test. Contrary to his expectations, the word problems had been much simpler to understand than any of the practice problems the teacher had demonstrated.
But I could have done better. I could've pulled off a 100%.
Yes, yes he could have. If he hadn't pussied out and gone to sleep at two-o'-clock in the morning instead of four-o'-clock as he'd planned. He could've squeezed in at least another hour of practice...
The teacher said something about their textbooks, which brought his attention back to the class. Reaching under his seat, he heard the whole class let out a collective groan as the teacher began rattling off page numbers for their weekend homework assignment.
"Now I'll repeat it again..." Mrs. Brody said as the students began to pack up their things, the sound of zippers being closed forcing her to make a feeble effort at raising her voice. The numbers were sequential, so they were easy enough for Sean to commit them to memory just before the afternoon announcements began to blare out over the PA system. Without even bothering to stay behind to listen to the principal's speech over the PA, he hastily crammed his math books into his camo bag and walked out the door.
Tonight, he'd earned a little downtime. Maybe he'd even try to sit down and watch that movie his dad had gotten from the video store.
(Sean Carver continued That High Speed Chicken Feed)