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I leaned over and whispered to the student next to me, “Last semester?
Do you know what he’s doing?” She quickly shook
her head, “No.” She had
the same horrified “deer caught in the
headlights” look on her face that I did.
The teacher was in rare form that day, my friend – all hopped up on
coffee and donuts and covered from head to toe
with chalk dust… “And you
remember this type of linear blah-blah whose
graph is clearly blah blah
blah…” “Clearly.” Uh… Yeah. Good thing I had
the Rolaids with me. This
guy was a major grouch who obviously had some
sort of deficient childhood.
Yes, he had scared the living crud out of me.
After class, the other clueless student and I cautiously approached him
–
much like one would approach a live grenade or
a baby that was accidentally
fed chili. We got our nerve up and told him
that we hadn’t taken any math the
previous semester and that we didn’t recognize
anything he had just done on
the chalkboard. He gruffly told us that we’d
never be able to pass and that we
should drop the class. He wasn’t exactly kind
about it. I think his exact
response was, “You’re going to fail this
class. Get out!” OK, maybe it wasn’t
that bad.
Continued on the
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