I was sitting in my sixth lesson, which was History. I glanced at the girls in our class who were simply infatuated with Professor Rogers - blond hair with blue eyes, 6’ 0” tall. The girls almost fainted at the sight of him, and hearing his voice were so excited that I was shocked. As far as I'm concerned, he didn't turn me on...
Finally, the bell for recess rang. I was able to rest those 10 minutes before two hours of Latin. I decided to chew some gum to relieve stress... It didn't help, so two minutes before class I spat it out into the trash can.
I sat in my bench and I was nervous as usual...
Finally the Professor came and I looked at him. As always irreplaceable, black tight pants hugging his shapely ass, a white shirt and this time a green tie, a black jacket was slung over his shoulder. He hung it over the back of his chair, then sat down and opened the journal. After checking the attendance list, he traditionally looked at the class and said:
„Today I will question myself with two people. I warn you in advance that I do not want to hear any prompts or conversations during this time.”
He reached for his notebook, did not look for a long time, then looked up:
„The number will be the first to answer... Number 5. and I invite you with the notebook.”
Chris got up to answer... He got the answer at the blackboard by writing sentences spoken by the Professor in Latin.
I watched him as he was writing quickly on the blackboard and was just finishing the last third sentence. Strangely, it had one minor error. After he finished, he walked over to the teacher's desk, who checked his homework, which he had all done correctly.
"I was wondering if maybe there is something wrong with me that only I have such lousy grades?!"
I was snapped out of my thoughts by my Professor's voice:
„The second person who will answer today is the number... Hmm...”
I saw him leaf through the notebook quickly with his neat fingers. Finally, he stopped where he wanted and looked up his intense green eyes:
„I invite number 22. to answer.”
I froze... "God no... It's my number... He must be joking..."
„Just take the notebook, my dear.”
I grabbed my notebook, got up hesitantly from the bench, and walked terrified to the Professor's desk.
I didn't know anything... I didn't think he'd answer.
I put the notebook on the desk waiting for it to be cut.
The man turned in the chair to face me and then crossed his legs, and I managed to see that he was smiling differently than usual. Then he finally asked:
„Do you know the rules of oral questioning, my dear?”
I nodded my head and added:
I got better, or so I thought.
„Yes, I know the rules...”
He looked at me as if he was expecting something and I still didn't know what it was.
He combed his hair, then intertwined his fingers and rested them on his knee.
„My dear, haven't you forgotten something?”
I tucked a small strand of hair behind my ear and said:
He raised an eyebrow significantly. He glanced at Alexey, who was waving his hand like a man possessed, then turned to him:
„Explain to your friend what is extremely important and very important she forgot...”
The self-satisfied nerd said to me:
„You forgot to say 'Professor'.”
I glanced at the teacher, who triumphed internally over me.
I put my hands behind me and said so only he could hear:
„I'm sorry, Professor...”
"God, did he really have to be so meticulous and biting?"
„All right. So I'll ask again, do you know the rules of oral questioning, my dear?”
„Yes, I know the rules, Professor.”
„I enjoy it. Then I will tell you three sentences one by one and you will tell me if they are correct or not. If you think they are wrong, then you already say them correctly, but... I also warn you that I may ask a tricky question, so I advise you to think carefully before you answer anything.”
I got two sentences and I didn't answer any of them correctly. The Professor looked at me.
„This is your last chance, my dear. Focus and don't screw it up...”
"As I predicted... I fell... A guaranteed F for my collection. There is something to be proud of..."
Finally, I couldn't take it mentally anymore and tears began to flow down my cheeks, and I began to shake.
Monra, who was sitting in the first pew in the middle row, noticed that I was crying and turned to the Professor in a malicious voice:
„Professor, because Y/N is crying like a spoiled brat!”
I quickly turned my back to the classroom.
God I was so ashamed... I have never cried in front of my class, nor have I ever cried because of any teacher.
I wanted to leave the classroom as soon as possible, or at least tell my Professor without any shame that I can't do anything and I'm afraid to ask him for help because I just fell in love with him...
After Monra's words, I thought he was going to scold me for crying, but he didn't respond. On the contrary, he opened a drawer in his desk and handed me a whole packet of tissues. I took it without saying a word... He glanced at Monra, then raised his voice and told her not to speak unless asked.
Finally the teacher took his pen and flipped through my notebook and came across the homework.
I was hoping for a miracle that at least the homework would be okay, and here it is total disappointment...
He started sketching, making corrections, and I got... yes, exactly. I got a second F.
Finally, he sighed heavily, looked at me and then got:
„Stay after class. We need to talk very seriously. Go back to your seat now.”
I said so only he could hear.
I grabbed my notebook, went back to my seat, and wiped my eyes quickly.
I've been waiting for this nightmare to end...
Traditionally, exactly five minutes before the bell, the Professor dictated our homework, and exactly at 15:20 pm the bell rang.
I finally packed my things and waited in my desk for the Professor to talk to me.
