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@sardonicskeptic-blog
One of my students asked me who Poincaré is.
Well educate me then. Won’t you please?
He was a very famous mathematician who lived in the 19th century. He contributed a lot of things to mathematics; for example, the Poincaré conjecture, which wasn't solved until 2002, or his contributions to the chaos theory.
One of my students asked me who Poincaré is.
We aren’t that bad…okay, some of us are.
You're only telling me something I already know.
One of my students asked me who Poincaré is.
Is it bad I dunno who that is?
Bad? No, of course not. It's terrible.
Thought I made it obvious that I didn’t want to see your sorry face ever again.
Why? Because I started poking into your past? You don't have to be so sensitive.
One of my students asked me who Poincaré is.
I can't deal with these kids anymore.
You’ll have to get used to Doctor Malcolm; he suffers from a deplorable excess of personality, especially for a mathematician.
You’ve got a little something right there… all over there, actually. You might want to change your clothes.
Is that your way of trying to get me to take my clothes off? Because it's not working.
Porter had had enough work for the day. His mind was moving at a million paces a minute. He had once again gotten too engrossed in his work and lost track of time. Stacking up his mountainous pile of papers, he placed them in his bag and grabbed the stack of books at the edge of his desk and headed out of his office, locking the door behind him.
He held his keys in his mouth and waved a goodbye to the other newspaper staff with his free hand. He headed out to the street and started to walk back to Sara’s place, trying to remember if he had to pick anything up on the back. Porter stopped and placed his books down on a bench and took a moment to put his keys in his bag and to count the stack of books to make sure he had the correct number. He nodded counting each book and decided to crash down on the bench with a sigh.
The old wooden bench shifted in the slightest of ways. If it hadn't done so, Eugene wouldn't have noticed the young man who plopped down beside him with a stack of books and a bag filled with something -- more books, probably. From the looks of it, he was just a kid and couldn't have been more than over eighteen years old. Upon further inspection, he realized that he had him for one of his classes, though he couldn't remember his name for the life of him.
He almost considered getting up and leaving. After all, there wasn't anything saying that he had to interact with the kid. He could just leave him there to wallow in his own self-pity and do whatever work he'd set out to do at the bench. However, he remembered his resolve to talk to people around the town. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to actually know who his students were.
"Studying?"
It's homework, not a death sentence.
Hey. [gestures to the cup on the table] You need a refill on that?
I'm surprised that you'd even speak to me. I thought you were set on hating me.
Maybe I should just stop expecting that they'll do their homework.
✘ an endless list of Vollha’s favourite characters → Jurassic Park’s Dr. Ian Malcolm ↳ "I’ll tell you the problem with the scientific power you’re using here. It didn’t require any discipline to attain it. You read what others had done, and you took the next step. You didn’t earn the knowledge for yourselves so you don’t take any responsibility for it."
Bonfire? A little intoxication never hurt a few secrets.
You sound like a politician.
A party.
Well, then, I’m holdin’ you to it.
A math teacher? ‘Course, just my luck. [He laughs.] Makin’ friends with a math teacher. I think you n’ me might get along pretty well, man.
Yeah? I take it that you're pretty into math yourself then.
A party.
You hate parties?
It's not so much that I hate the parties themselves. It's that I hate what they bring.
Forced socialization, awkward conversations... How can anyone like them?
