Bide Your Time

Thursday, April 2nd, 2:30pm.

A rumpled-looking kid sitting in the middle of the room uneasily raises his hand. “Can you go over problem number thirteen on the notes please?” A tall man leaning carelessly against the well-organized desk at the front of the room smiles condescendingly.
“That was a simple problem. I really don’t understand what the problem could be. But sure, why don’t we go over it.” He turns to the dusty chalkboard and continues to solve the problem in aggressive, blocky script, explaining each step slowly and with the kind of tone usually reserved for toddlers and pets. “So there you have it. It’s really not all that hard, class. X equals thirty-nine point four.”
Actually, sir, x equals thirty-seven point one. And I can prove it, too. I just don’t think you’re worth the trouble.

2:45pm. Fifteen more minutes until the bell.

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