who don’t speak French, you are allowed to answered the tests and homework in English’. I was relieved to think that at least he knew that there were people that didn’t speak French. My notebook was still blank. I had stared at the chalkboard, yes chalkboard for the whole period, which went by quickly; it was only 45 minutes long. I remembered now that in the meeting in the auditorium Ms. Burchill had mentioned that this year classes only lasted 45 minutes to ensure that we would keep focused during the whole day. I thought that was a good idea, and I felt comfortable for the first time during the day because I thought that at least classes would go by faster. The bell rang and the sounds of when my classmates pushed in the chairs and of everybody gathering their things mixed with the bell, which resembled an airport bell for the new flights. I don’t know why, but I thought of that in that specific moment. I saw I had math and my stomach just started grumbling and I felt like if nothing was going right today. I hated math. I had always hated math, and I didn’t want to try to make any more efforts today. I had already made enough and I didn’t feel like trying! But it was only 10:15, the day had just started. I had a little hint of a smile for just a moment when I thought to myself that today was Tuesday, and that on Tuesdays I finished at 4:30. Getting to math class was easy, because it was NH13 and I had seen it just the hallway before economics class. I went back there and I was right, I had in fact seen the classroom. I went inside and I sat on the back, alone. I waited a few minutes and before I knew it the bell rang. As soon as it did I saw the teacher walking in the door. She was tall and she had long blond hair. She was really pretty. Even for a math teacher I thought. She said a very quick ‘Hello’ to the class and then she started writing on the board. She wrote Mme Coursaget and on the bottom she wrote HL MATH. Hmm. HL math? What could that mean. I had no idea, maybe she would explain. “I hope that you are all in the right place, this is HL MATH class.” She said in an ironic tone. I wasn’t in the right place at all I thought. As soon as she said that she handed out the math books, which were of course huge and very very heavy. She said we had to open it in a certain page and that we should start doing the problems. I started trying to do the problems. I was really frustrated that I couldn’t solve even one, but then I turned around and I saw that a girl behind me was exactly in my position. She had her sheet of paper blank. I felt relieved but I still tried my best. She gave us like 20 minutes for 30 problems. As soon as everybody was done (except for me) she started discussing them as a class and asking people to come up and write their answers on the board. Not me I thought. I had barely gotten to problem number 5 and I still thought that they were wrong. I looked at the clock slyly so the teacher wouldn’t notice that I was in a hurry to leave. I saw it was 10:40. Only 20 more minutes I thought. After discussing the problems, which I took no participation in, she started writing on the chalkboard. Numbers, letters, and more numbers. I took out my notebook and I started copying those numbers down, also I decided to make a rough draft of what my letter to Ms. Burchill would look like. It would be something like: Hello Ms. Burchill, I think I am in the wrong math class. I should be in normal. Thank you.
!
84!