Thank you for those who have been helping me with this story. Your criticism really helps me out, and I appreciate it. I wouldn't know what I would do without you guys.
For this chapter, I'm having a hard time of showing then telling. If you could nit-pick the parts I'm having a hard time with, then it would be greatly appreciated!
I need any sort of criticism I can get. Harsh reviews are always helpful.
Enjoy reading!
Revised.
With the school size deducting even more on today's date, I didn't have any trouble getting to my second period Pre-Calculus class. Getting to my seat, Mr. Colby went over the graphing questions we had for homework last night.
Passing with a C+ in the class, I was surprised I wasn't falling behind. When I was a junior last year, the Trig. Class was a so-so subject. I got some of it, but not all.
I guess the higher you get the complicated it can get too.
For Pre-Cal it's all those advanced functions we have to use with our graphing calculators. Just thinking about those equations was getting me a headache.
“Well, class we're finished with today's work from yesterday.” Mr. Colby announced, “Because we have a half hour left of class, why don't we play a little game of jeopardy?” He clapped his old, wrinkled hands together, knowing he was excited for this game.
Ever since I had Colby back in freshmen year with Algebra, he was always thrilled to play those math games with the class.
He always gives the brightest smile and say, “Isn't this loads of fun, class?” Colby then would clap his old wrinkled hands together, while everyone laughed out loud.
“Sure, Colby.” One of the older guys would say, rolling their eyes. Those were the times in math that I enjoyed the most.
He was always helpful when I didn't get a problem and would go over every equation until I got it.
“See, Kate. You insert the nine over here and divide those numbers by this.” As he pointed to the paper. “Use your graphing calculator for this problem.”
“Okay.” I punched in the numbers and then wrote down the answer.
“Good job, Kate. Now do you understand this equation...”
There were times when I saw how old he was. Colby would either help me with something, and I saw his hand move around, thinking about the problem. There was the pale color of his skin and the bumps of the wrinkles on his hands.
His old age was from either teaching math for so long or dealing with us high school kids. Everyone practically knew him in the school.
Sometimes I'd walk through the hallways during passing period and see some kids with Colby. “Hey, Colby!” One kid would say. Or others, “What's up man?”
Colby would reply saying, “Not much. Have you done that work I gave you?” I giggled softly to myself, knowing that he loved teaching math.
He was just the sort of teacher that everyone liked.
The kids in my class were fond of Colby just like any students that had him as a teacher. When we played jeopardy, we either laughed when we won or felt a little down when we lost. When a group won a mathematical question, the guys would cheer and go crazy for a piece of candy.
As time ticked away, my Pre-Cal class were laughing in their separate huddles. They were all enjoying themselves with the math game.
Mr. Colby stopped the game and candies were passed out as he said, “Class, have a wonderful break and I'll see you after New Year's.” The moment he finished the bell rang and I grabbed my books, put them in my bag and headed to my next class.
Going out the door to the portables, I was hit by the rush of cold December wind. I wrapped the green and black scarf tighter around my neck as I kept my hands warm in my fuzzy green gloves.
By the time I got to my class, I was thankful that the door was already opened. I wasn't going to wait in the cold. Walking inside my first class in a portable, Mr. Harris said something, “Class you can sit anywhere you want.” He said without looking up from his paperwork.
With that I scanned the room for an empty seat, “Hey, Kate! Sit over here with me.” Chloe Sullivan said. She was over by the far right corner and I came by setting my book bag down.
Sitting down I said, “Hi, Chloe.”
She looked at me with her blond curls bobbled around her round face. “Hey. Are you like so ready for Christmas break?” As she rolled her glossy-touched blue eyes.
“Yep.” We both turned to face the front of the class as Mr. Harris started to pass out our tests. My third period, Contemporary Humanities was an okay class that I was taking this year as a senior.
“Class, this is your basic 101 on the subjects we've been talking about. You should of studied the modern paintings, music, crafts and so on, on the twentieth century humans. Guys this is everything that has to do with the humanistic disciples.”
By the time we all had our books and bags away and our pencils out, Harris was done passing the papers out. “You have until the end of class. If you don't finish, well you just might wanna finish today instead of having to worry over it on break.”
When he was done talking, I looked at the white paper and began filling out answers as I thought about fiction and poetry, drama and films in the twentieth century.
As I thought about answers I also thought about the class in general. I didn't know many kids, but mostly by their first names and that was just it. The only person I really knew was Chloe Sullivan. I knew her since sophomore year as we took our tenth grade Language Arts class together.
For Chloe, she loved the world of language. Not foreign languages, but the art of it. She loved anything from Greek and Roman Literature to Shakespeare. And from British and American authors in the 18-20th centuries.
She was huge for the early 1900s. This was just the thing she loved. With art of language in the palm of her hand, she had so many choices on what she wanted to be. Yet she knew she wanted to study English Literature from the 18th through the 21st century.
As I thought away from Chloe I thought about my teacher, Mr. Harris. He was odd sort of man. He was passionate about his work but also got grumpy at times. It was scary seeing him like that. He told us that he had no wife and kids, so there was no pictures on his desk. That must have been why he acts that strange sometimes.
I had a few more questions to go, and I pulled my full attention on it. I filled out multiple choices, fill in the blanks and one paragraph analysis.
As I wrapped up my test and scanned over for missed questions, I got up and placed the test in the third period box that was in front of the room. I wasn't the only one who finished, there were several others, including Chloe.
With the rest of the students scrambling for answers, the bell rang and I left out the door.
“Hey, Kate.” I reached the end of the steps when I turned around to the cheery voice of Chloe.
“Yeah?”
“See you after break.”
“Thanks, have a nice Christmas.”
“You too.” We smiled goodbye as I left for lunch.
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