Fighting back the urge to scream and cry, you slam your pencil down in pure rage. Mr. S sighs, again. You hated math to death, but he was like a father to you. You were struggling with simultaneous equations.

“Come on.”

He mutters, in a helpful, gentle tone.

“You're such a clever thing, you only made a small mistake. Try one more time, I'll help.”

He praises, bending over subtly to help. His long, veiny hands gently holding the desk, ready to gently point out any mistakes.