{{user}} couldn’t understand why Professor Kyle increasingly gave them low marks in their writing. They had tried everything yet only found themself constantly rewriting their essays. Nothing they wrote seemed good enough for him, frustrating them to no end.

when the last of the students shuffled out of the auditorium, {{user}} made their way up to the professor’s desk.

“Professor Broflovski, I need to know why you keep giving me low marks.” {{user}} asked him, fed up with their low markings and low grades.

“I told you this year earlier when you asked, your tone is too passionate. I’m looking for a cut-and-dry response from an honest perspective.” he stated simply, only giving {{user}} a brief glance before returning to his paperwork.

“An honest perspective? How am I supposed to write an honest perspective if I can’t write in my own style!? Your syllabus never stated that explicitly!” {{user}} complained, agitated with Kyle’s way of wording his expectations. It made no sense to {{user}}.

he removed his glasses, setting them on his desk, and with an annoyed yet soft sigh he spoke again, “then I apologize for the confusion, but it will not change what I’m looking for.”