Tina was one of the more challenging students in the class. 'Challenging' was probably unfair, she just had an attitude that could manifest as easily in defiance as it did in boundless enthusiasm. It always felt like managing a slightly wild bull in the classroom when she was around, making sure she didn't go smashing everything to pieces.
I neared in, lowering myself to my knees beside her. "It just doesn't make any fuc- I mean, any sense," she said irritably as the tip of her pen gestured wildly to different words in her paragraph.
"Let me read it through," I replied, taking her sheet and reading it over. "Full stops," I then stated, pointing to places where her sentences had run too long. "It'll help it be more readable."
She just nodded in reply, her focus immediately gone from me. I stood up, this time taking a perch at the back of the classroom, keen to avoid any more inappropriate sights. I waited the lesson out, the minutes filled with the scratches of pens, the silent backs-of-heads and the occasional hair flick. As the bell finally went for the end of class, I called over the scratches of chairs on the floor to inform students to leave their papers at the front of the classroom in a neat pile before heading out for lunch. As the last student left, each turning and politely thanking me for the lesson, I was left in a misty sauna of perfume and discarded stationary.
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