He liked to end class a little earlier than usual and chat with the popular kids, gave lots of group work so others could hang out with their friends in class, and had ‘fun’ assignments like mock trials. He was the sort of teacher who tried to be friends with his students, the sort who went by “Mr. He was animated, clearly excited about what he was talking about, and for once, the class was listening. Twenty minutes to twelve five minutes left before class ended. I wasn’t picking up enough of his lesson to follow along. My eyes were restless too, darting from the clock above the door to Mr. I fidgeted, my pen moving from hand to hand, tapping, or absently drawing some figure in the corner of the page to join the other doodles. Now that it had finally arrived, I couldn’t focus. Gladly’s World Issues class where we’d start discussing capes. Since the start of the semester, I had been looking forward to the part of Mr. Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass.Ĭlass ended in five minutes and all I could think was, an hour is too long for lunch. Brief note from the author: This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |