He would always pick on me. Call me out in front of the entire class or just make me look foolish. Every time he said my name I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I will never understand why he did it. I am a high-achieving, quiet and very, extremely, shy student. I have never ever been the cause of any kind of trouble in life. Yet, I found my self constantly being mocked by this teacher. Well by now I have enough, today is my chance to sort this out once and for all. I have to write a stupid essay, the set question: ‘what do you want your future to turn out like?’ My plan was simple – I would unload my mind onto this sheet of paper and tell him exactly why he shouldn’t treat me like a pile of shit. I walked into class took my seat at the front, the table right in front of his desk , last week I was moved for distracting other students. I sneezed.
“Okay class, today is the day to write your dreaded essays. I expect them by the end of this period. GO! ” Mr Wentz addressed the class, he stood there in his classic black shirt, tight black jeans with his tattoos just visible below his shirt cuff. He turned round and I found myself staring at his ass. Shit – did he just see me looking? My cheeks flushed as I diverted my eyes to the ground. “Well, well Mr Stump what have we got here a blank sheet of paper I’m shocked” he was mocking me, I had wasted ten minutes of the lesson staring at him. “See, Patrick if you are having difficulties writing your own name you shouldn’t be in this class.” My cheeks instantly grew red. “See its spelt.” He took the pen out of my hand and leaned over my desk and began writing. My pants instantly grew tighter. “It’s P-A-T-R-I-C-K” he spoke softly, the class erupted in laughter and I began to feel even shittier. I looked away and sighed.
