Sometimes, I come to moments in my life when I really, honest to God don’t want to do something (ok this might be more than sometimes). I procrastinate and put it off, always making up some excuse as to why I can’t do it right now or I find something to distract myself with. However, I know it needs to get done. It reminds me of when I was in Mr. Johansson’s math and science class in 4th grade.
We came into class one day and there, on our desks, were the most dreaded slips of paper known to every 10-year-old in the world. It was time…for multiplication tables. We sat down and he started explaining what we’d have to do with those small pieces of Hell and as he was talking I realized he was that teacher. The one that tries to make everything …show more content…
So, I got home one afternoon and she was sitting in her chair in the living room, a general ready to enter combat. Her legs were crossed determinedly and in her lap rested her weapon, a pile of flash cards. We stared at each other for a moment, stones of dread settling in my stomach. I knew this what was about to happen and I was not going to win. Nonetheless, I fought. I slowly approached her and the epic battle began. Hours upon hours of numbers ensued (at least it seemed that way to me). I resisted. I cried. I refused to answer. I did everything I possibly could, but it was futile. Number by number was slowly burned into my memory, forever scarred on the deep recesses of my brain. She was winning and I was exhausted but I still had a few dregs of energy left. Summoning my last bit of strength and willpower, I made one final attempt and threw the biggest temper tantrum of my 10-year life. I screamed and cried and threw myself on the floor. I begged her, pleaded with her, “please don’t make me do anymore!!” It was to no avail. I learned all of my times tables and although I may not have ever won any of those competitions, I got all of the answers
We came into class one day and there, on our desks, were the most dreaded slips of paper known to every 10-year-old in the world. It was time…for multiplication tables. We sat down and he started explaining what we’d have to do with those small pieces of Hell and as he was talking I realized he was that teacher. The one that tries to make everything …show more content…
So, I got home one afternoon and she was sitting in her chair in the living room, a general ready to enter combat. Her legs were crossed determinedly and in her lap rested her weapon, a pile of flash cards. We stared at each other for a moment, stones of dread settling in my stomach. I knew this what was about to happen and I was not going to win. Nonetheless, I fought. I slowly approached her and the epic battle began. Hours upon hours of numbers ensued (at least it seemed that way to me). I resisted. I cried. I refused to answer. I did everything I possibly could, but it was futile. Number by number was slowly burned into my memory, forever scarred on the deep recesses of my brain. She was winning and I was exhausted but I still had a few dregs of energy left. Summoning my last bit of strength and willpower, I made one final attempt and threw the biggest temper tantrum of my 10-year life. I screamed and cried and threw myself on the floor. I begged her, pleaded with her, “please don’t make me do anymore!!” It was to no avail. I learned all of my times tables and although I may not have ever won any of those competitions, I got all of the answers