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A/N: This is something I wrote during a Literature class. Our teacher is not conducive to learning. In the two weeks that I’ve been in his class, there is not one thing that I understand about the lesson. All I’ve learned to do is to space out. I think I should open myself to the possibilities, but at this point, there’s no chance of that happening.

~*~

She had to bow her head to avoid her teacher’s gaze. It was painful to try and pretend that she gives a shit about his subject. Or him. It was a long hour during his class. A long, excruciatingly boring class… and hour. It wasn’t usually so easy for her to space out during “working-slash-school time,” but now it was no effort for her (and her conscience) to drown out his voice and his discussion. It was so boring! Like goddamn! So fuckin’ boring and dragging! He tries to put interesting facts and tidbits of thought into his lesson but it’s obvious he’s not really into the subject he’s teaching. He’s being mediocre. What a shame! He’s supposed to be a good teacher and an ex-student. Shameful! Abso-fuckin-lutely shameful!

The girl sitting beside was nodding off as Mr. Mediocre droned on and on about literature. Oooh! How his I’m-so-smart and condescending tone annoyed her. Not a lot. But enough. Enough to make her detest going to class.

~*~

That’s it. Very crude and very angry. And sloppy.

I really wish things could be better in class or within myself. I know it’s wrong to blame the teacher. But in this case, how can I not? Literary theories is not something I read for recreation. I don’t know anything about it. I hope he comes up with a better teaching strategy other than just reading from his printed notes and explaining them to us.

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