John The Architect

My only defense was to write down every single word they said. The horribly chewed pencil bit into the paper, moving over it ferociously fast. This is what it was like being in a college level biology class when you have no business being in one. I, personally, wanted to be an architect, the greatest one Minnesota had ever seen. But alas, my constant evasion of science in high school forced me to sit here rubbing the side of my hand raw all for a C+, if I was lucky enough.

“John?” Mr. Edle said politely.

I sighed and looked up at the middle aged man with an oddly comforting concern for me. It softened the blow whenever he gave my failed exams back, but of course this wouldn’t stop him from calling on me…

“Yes?” I replied with only slight distaste.

“Are we moving too fast for you?”

All fifty of the other students turned their eyes on me.

This was in no way an insult on his part, but no one wanted to get called out for being slow.

“Mr. Edle, I hope you are not insinuating that I am slower than the general population of this class with that comment. I, too, know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Does that not prove I am able to hold my own in Bio 100?”

“John, we were just discussing chromosomes and the effects of a deficiency or excess of such.”

A kid in the back with balls for brains whispered “it appears he has one. Maybe we could use him as a case study.”

Student around him snickered.

Mr. Edle calming took control of the situation again with a raised hand. “Your knowledge on the mitochondria fairly impressive,”a twinkle came into his watery grey eyes, ”but it is not what we are discussing. So I ask you again, are we moving too fast for you?”

I paused, thinking about how I did not even know the topic of today for this godforsaken class. “Yes,” I replied with a resounding huff.