Engrained

Why does my devilishly hilarious science teacher, the one who offers Swedish fish on a whim but denies that the orange arrow on the board is in fact orange, have to extend his insanity over the first tests on our permanent high school transcripts? I had to ask him four times before I understood that yes, everything in the textbook was testable even if we didn't go over it in class, and yes, that included the mind-numblingly exhaustive description of the safety precautions taken by most modern skydivers, and yes, each question was worth a minimum of seven points, no partial or extra credit. His smile was vicious and bloodthirsty.

It's enough that the morals and déjà vu have pilfered all the common sense I had left so that I'm always left feeling a bit confused. Now I have to remember the notes I never even took in the first place? It doesn't seem possible that some self-respecting teacher with checked button-downs and glasses - glasses! - would squeeze my dry brain for sustenance while I lie dead from anxiety. It all comes down to the number out of 100, the potential we present for physics in general... Apparently if anyone gets 100 the test was too easy. I guess that would make the end goal for this course chasing our tails until we come just high enough to fall the farthest.