Coward

While I was in secondary school one of the most constant things for me was my Maths classes. With every other subject, things changed nearly every year, but I had the exact same Maths class for Year 8, Year 9, Year 10 and Year 11. I was always rather fond of these lessons, partly because I always ended up sitting with friends, but also because I enjoyed solving Mathematical equations and problems. I wanted to continue studying this as an A Level but, sadly, I’d always been in Set 2 (which wasn’t the top class) so when I tried the first A Level lesson it was too much of a leap forward. But, I digress.
    The class was taught by a married couple and eventually the wife had to leave for a year due to pregnancy leaving the husband to take the classes by himself. It was during this time that some tension grew between he and I. This teacher was starting to go bald and so a friend of mine thought it would be quite funny to shout ‘baldy’ every time he turned around. As I’m sure you can guess, the teacher didn’t quite see the funny side of this. Funnily enough, this friend had a voice that sounded almost exactly the same as mine which lead to a fair number of pickles.
    One day, after a particularly loud ‘baldy’ the teacher had decided he’d had enough. He turned around, but his hands down on my table and said to the class, “This has to stop. Somebody in this room is a coward.”
    He slowly turned his head and gazed at me. It was clearly that he believed it had been me and was only waiting for the evidence.
    “Well, I’m not a coward, Sir,” I said to him.
    “I didn’t say that you were, Adam,” he replied. “But you are implicating yourself a little by denying it like that.”
    “It’s just the fact that you were staring right at me, made me think that you were calling me a coward.”
    “Alright, that’s enough,” he said. “Let’s get back on with the class.”
    Eventually my name was cleared when he did catch my friend. One time he shouted ‘baldy’ in the corridor ran in the opposite direction of the teacher and out through some doors only to then casually walk back in through them.
    “Who was that?” the teacher asked.
    “I don’t know,” he replied, “somebody just ran passed me on the stairs. Didn’t see who it was.”
    Even though it was a little mean, I found it absolutely hilarious that that worked. I guess it was at that point that his suspicions about me began to fade. This is just one of several fond memories of my Maths classes, sooner or later, I’ll write the rest.
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