I walk to my first class: math. Wonderful, my absolute least favorite subject. 

Mr. Johan is a short man with a strong will. He gives us a lecture the first minute we walk into the class.

"To do math eez to preform an art," he tells us with a clipped french accent. His large black mustache trembles with every word. "Math eez a talent only perfected by practice and skeeled work. I expect all of you to do just as well as you possible can. And if you fall short of your full potential, zere will be consequences." There is an almost sinister expression on his face. 

Our first unit, which we start the very first day, is on fractions, decimals and percentages. Fortunately, it is mostly a review of last year's unit. The first chapter and its problems are fairly easy. He has us work with partners, and then at the end of class assigns us the next chapter.

"Geez," says my friend, Jonas "Way to weird a class out..."