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Description
it all started about 4 years ago.i had just finished middle school and i was looking for a high school.and there was one very close to my home...

i went there to see if they let me in... it was a private school, with strict rules (or was it?)and they asked very hard questions, often stupid ones:

"what are the flags in the north pole made of?","what about the ones in the moon?"

they were strange... but they did finally let me in, even though i still don't know what those flags are made of .

this school had no principal, no real teacher, and yet magically worked out...

At the heart of the action was Mr.B, a person with dark skin and eyes that look like...never mind.He did everything and nothing.He could tell you that you are not allowed to go to your class this hour, but he didn't see any reason to explain you why.And then his assistant in what he was doing(which was unclear!) Mr.N,a tall, slim person that students often called him spaghetti.he was also a math teacher too with his extraordinary way of teaching:

He calls me: Sina!
-Yes,Sir?
-Read it.

And i start reading from the mathematics text book , and he simply leaves the class.and when he comes back, he asks:"Ok, did you all understand the lesson?"without really looking for an answer, and then he says:"alright then, open your books and solve the practice problems."

And then came the hard part of our day.The class didn't have many students, rarely exceeding 10 in the 3 years that i studied in it.so there were 2 groups.I was the head of one and my friend, Hanif, the other.and there was nothing exciting about the group work.I and Hanif had to do what spaghetti had to do.We had to teach them what we didn't quite understand ourselves.and yes, we HAD TO.Because they threatened us to average out our grades with other members of the group.and the group-mates were a problem, too. they were either lazy, stupid(and in one case even crazy!)or they simply didn't want to cooperate.

However, there were times when we could ask questions from either Mr.B or spaghetti.But it had it's own problems.Sometimes when we asked both of them separately, the answers were different.Sometimes the answers included principles we hadn't yet learnt.Maybe we shouldn't have asked after all!

Everyday, we had to report their homework status with high details.this was even a bigger problem.The people who don't cooperate now suddenly become your friends.If you report their homework status(which was hardly ever acceptable) then you would be a coward.So I always had to figure that out someday.And i couldn't cheat, because spaghetti always checked our notebooks every month.

and the exams... you could never be perfect. they always catch you."that B isn't written well"and yeah. it was math, not English.Objections?you must be brave to have any objections.Because then your paper is corrected another time, and who knows how many other mistakes they can find...

OK.maybe it doesn't sound like hell very much, but there's still more to come...;J

:D (Big Grin) — Description
it all started about 4 years ago.i had just finished middle school and i was looking for a high school.and there was one very close to my home...

i went there to see if they let me in... it was a private school, with strict rules (or was it?)and they asked very hard questions, often stupid ones:

"what are the flags in the north pole made of?","what about the ones in the moon?"

they were strange... but they did finally let me in, even though i still don't know what those flags are made of .

this school had no principal, no real teacher, and yet magically worked out...

At the heart of the action was Mr.B, a person with dark skin and eyes that look like...never mind.He did everything and nothing.He could tell you that you are not allowed to go to your class this hour, but he didn't see any reason to explain you why.And then his assistant in what he was doing(which was unclear!) Mr.N,a tall, slim person that students often called him spaghetti.he was also a math teacher too with his extraordinary way of teaching:

He calls me: Sina!
-Yes,Sir?
-Read it.

And i start reading from the mathematics text book , and he simply leaves the class.and when he comes back, he asks:"Ok, did you all understand the lesson?"without really looking for an answer, and then he says:"alright then, open your books and solve the practice problems."

And then came the hard part of our day.The class didn't have many students, rarely exceeding 10 in the 3 years that i studied in it.so there were 2 groups.I was the head of one and my friend, Hanif, the other.and there was nothing exciting about the group work.I and Hanif had to do what spaghetti had to do.We had to teach them what we didn't quite understand ourselves.and yes, we HAD TO.Because they threatened us to average out our grades with other members of the group.and the group-mates were a problem, too. they were either lazy, stupid(and in one case even crazy!)or they simply didn't want to cooperate.

However, there were times when we could ask questions from either Mr.B or spaghetti.But it had it's own problems.Sometimes when we asked both of them separately, the answers were different.Sometimes the answers included principles we hadn't yet learnt.Maybe we shouldn't have asked after all!

Everyday, we had to report their homework status with high details.this was even a bigger problem.The people who don't cooperate now suddenly become your friends.If you report their homework status(which was hardly ever acceptable) then you would be a coward.So I always had to figure that out someday.And i couldn't cheat, because spaghetti always checked our notebooks every month.

and the exams... you could never be perfect. they always catch you."that B isn't written well"and yeah. it was math, not English.Objections?you must be brave to have any objections.Because then your paper is corrected another time, and who knows how many other mistakes they can find...

OK.maybe it doesn't sound like hell very much, but there's still more to come...;J