“Your understanding of algebra is fuzzy !” A cloud of chalk dust arose from the table , where the duster had been forcefully thrown to emphasise the point . The remark was directed to one sorry individual , not the entire class .
“Is it ? Shouldn’t the word be hazy ? ” He countered with a smile . He was always treading on toes , picking grammatical error in a teacher’s remark is academic equivalent of committing harakiri.
The kids gasped . The teacher faltered , stumped for a moment. A moment later , he said , sticking to his guns-“No , it is not !It is fuzzy , and faulty and unsound , like a mouldy apple .”
The bell rang, kids got up , the boy mumbled ” But apples are sweet” thrusting maths book into his satchel .
The teacher emerged , pushed out by a tide of home-bound, eager , sweaty kids .
“Hey you ! ” he had caught the boy again . “I heard that ” .
“Apples are sweet , but mouldy ones aren’t , trust me .” The boy smiled his toothy grin . The teacher pumped his fist with an impish grin and disappeared in the sea of humanity.
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