They walked
into the classroom and took a seat. Before they could say anything more, the
instructor walked into the room.
Dr. Benedict
was a tall, lanky man with a nasally, but monotone voice. Not the kind of tone
you need to keep a student’s interest in math at 8:00 in the morning. But, he
seemed either not to notice or not to care that half the class was beginning to
doze before he finished his introduction to the syllabus. Tara and Michael
managed to stay awake by slipping notes to each other. And, their shock at the
start of his lecture.
“This is Math 90,” he began. “Beginning Algebra.
Or, more accurately, a refresher course of what you were too stupid to pay
attention to in high school.” A few heads jerked up at this and students
whispered to each other until Dr. Benedict took a ruler and smacked the podium
with it, shocking the class back into silence. “I don’t dick around. I don’t
tolerate talking. If you can’t keep up, there’s the tutoring center or you may
as well leave now and drop the class. I move fast. You have 16 weeks to learn
this shit and move on to the next level of actual college level math. If you’re
not on time, you fail the day. I lock the door when I enter. You miss the
lecture, tough shit. Everything’s laid out on the syllabus what we’re covering
each day. You’ll just have to figure it out yourself if you expect to pass my
class. Your cell phones will be
silenced or turned off. If I see it out, you will be asked to leave and you’ll
not be marked for a whole week. You’re that stupid and need a calculator, go
buy one. Don’t use your phone. I’ll just assume you’re texting or on Facebook.
Now, open your packets to page 1 and we’ll go over my rules and the curriculum
for this semester.”
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