Evan was in math class, the most boring class of his entire day. Mr. Veaty was droning on and on about some unintelligible formula, ignoring students raised hands. He was an old bald guy, a classical 50s era teacher, the days when students, in his words 'sat down, shut up, and paid attention'. In fact, until a few years ago when parent complaints had necessitated him attending a 'refresher course' on modern teaching methods, he repeatedly threatened students with rulers whenever they asked questions (not that he was allowed to use one, but he somehow thought that the empty threat would make the students shut up). These days, he just ignored them, firm in his belief that 'either you get it or you are stupid and should go work at a fast food restaurant'. Rumor around the school was that the district had finally found a way around his old-style tenured contract and that he wouldn't be returning in the fall.
Unfortunately, it was not soon enough to keep Evan and his friends, Mitch, the tall brown haired baseball player located to his right and Sara, the short, bookwormy redhead seated in front of him, from suffering. Evan looked at the clock, hoping it was almost over, but no luck; there was almost another hour left in the double period. "I just wish this class would be more interesting..." he thought as he doodled away in his notebook. It wasn't like he learned anything here anyway, he and just about everyone else in the class went to private tutoring. |