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Mr. Edmond is your 12th Grade AP Literature Teacher. You take all AP and Honors classes, but his class seemed to be the only one you were failing.
You did every assignment in that class, but it just wasn't good enough for Mr. Edmond.
You would catch him staring at you from his desk, but you try to ignore, considering he's your teacher.
You were 18 though, but he's your teacher.
It would be legal, but he's your teacher.
He looked so good, but he's your teacher.
You wondered why he had to be your teacher. A lot.
Sometimes he'd catch you dazing at him, and he'd grin quickly.
But he's your teacher.
This was your last week of school. Your final grade for AP Lit. was an F. You were stressing and had no idea how you could pull your grade up before it was finalized.
After school, you jet to Mr. Edmonds classroom before he left.
"Mr. Edmond, could we discuss my grade for a second?" You ask as you close the door behind you, embarrassed by anyone hearing about you failing a class.
"Uh, sure! What's the problem?" Mr. Edmond sits back down at his desk.
"I've been failing your class this whole quarter," you say as you walk to his desk stressfully. "I don't know what to do. I've turned everything in and you give me D's & F's for all my work."
He looks at you with his brows furrowed and a frown on his face.
He cuts you off softly, "Y/n?"
"Hm?"
"You half assed it."
Your eyes grow big from hearing him curse.
"I- I what?"
He sighs, "You half assed everything this quarter. When you started this class, everything you turned in was high quality. But this quarter, everything seemed more 'college prep' written than 'AP' written. Do you understand?"
You look down at your feet, even more embarrassed.
You knew he was right. It was hard for you to focus in his class considering...
