Perfect Ninety

-1

Mrs. Price wrote the first equation from the word problem onto the board which turned out to look a little like this:

8d+5x=-69

My first thought was 'is this a solvable problem?'

Everybody else in the class however, had a different view than me.

While I sat in the back of the muggy, closet-sized, classroom flipping through last week's notes, the other kids took turns making abstract remarks.

"Haha, number eight wants the D!" said the girl next to me who alternates her extensions from a 14-inch to a radical 28-inch.

"Eight D's and Five Ex's equal 69," continued Derrick--one of those jock boys who does every sport the school will allow him to play. He even tried out for cheerleading last year but quit when he saw that the stunts were ones they teach 6 year-olds and that it was more of a step team.

"laugh out loud. Sixty-nine," added Michelle, who took one second to look up from her brand new phone, an upgrade from the one she had last week.

Mrs. Price glared at each one of us and asked, "Does anyone have a real answer? Stop acting like I don't know what that stuff means."

At that moment the whole class roared into laughter and I just laid my head on the desk. How could I be in an honors math class as a sophomore and be stuck around the most sexually immature kids? Part of the reason I signed up for honors classes is because they said there were 'less distractions.' I'd rather be at the top of a regular class than be stuck here with this under-appreciated mess.

"STOP IT! I ONLY HAVE ONE STUDENT WHO I KNOW IS GOING TO PASS MY CLASS AND THAT IS ANNA BRYAN. SHE COMPLAINS ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU TALK ALL. THE. TIME."

Great. Thanks for throwing me under the bus Mrs. Price. You used to be my favorite teacher--until all of the kids listened to you for once and decided to stare into the side of my pulsating head.

"Do you really say that about us, Anna?," Extension-Girl asked me with that ditzy, bubble brained look on her face. All the bleach she uses must've gotten to her head.

I attempt to ignore that comment and stare at the square root chart in front of the class.

"Yeah well, you're in an honors class, it's time you figure out why x equals y and not how much makeup you can apply before you look like a pumpkin," I retorted.

"Ooooooh," sang the class. They should be used to this. I end up saying something to someone everyday in this class. They don't know that they are the cause of my Chronic Migraine! Well, no. Ive had it for years but this class doesn't help.

"Well, I just asked you a question. You didn't have to act all big and bad on me. They were right about you. You need to calm down a few levels. Dang. Chill," she mumbled as she turned her head away from me.

This whole class is getting butt hurt over nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Then Mrs. Price realized at the last second that she may've made a mistake by telling the class something she swore was going to stay between me and her and decided she'd start on her famous tangent.

As she walked to her desk:

"You kids need to grow up. You're in the 10th grade, some of you numerous times. You are supposed to be role models. All you care about is who has the funniest joke and not about who gets hurt. We aren't going to pass you along anymore. It's not going to be this easy in college, either. The professor will kick you out of his class if you act..."