Being a teacher’s pet
The day was long. Sometimes, even teachers dread the length of the school day. I watched the clock during that final class of the day. The seconds were hours, the minutes were days. To make matters worse, once the drone of the bell came to a halt, my desk managed to pile up to the rafters with work to be marked. Work to be failed. I sighed, my class was a failure and it was likely that I would not return home for many more hours. I readied my pen and grasped the first of many papers to mark; I studied the first notes on the page and prepared to write when suddenly a voice filled the air. “Sir?” whispered the voice. The noise was a soft buzz in the back of my brain, it …