I think I mentioned before that I'm afraid of everyone in my math class. Picture adult-learner night classes. Throw in some scary 20 year old girls who wear oversized hoodies. What's going on in your head is my reality. I've never had a class like this.
The class I'm taking is Math 097, which is just an algebra refresher. I haven't done algebra since Y2K, so it was necessary for me to get refreshed. Horrifyingly, each thing we "learn" comes rushing back to me. What else could I know if I didn't have dusty algebra knowledge taking up space in my head? I digress.
I have tried 3 different seats in the class, searching for the "least scary" spot. The seat I choose the first night was occupied on the second night by a middle-aged man who, due to his jittery enthusiasm and gold cross necklace, I assume recently completed some sort of AA program. So I picked a seat against the wall, two rows back from the teacher. Unfortunately, in the row behind me is a teenaged mother and her scary, thuggish, whore-bag friend. They chatter and gossip and loudly eat potato chips throughout class, so rather than hitting them with my book, I sought out a new seat.
I found a nice little spot all the way in the back corner, with a one desk buffer between me and another student. There is a one desk buffer between this student and the aforementioned recovered alcoholic, who I will call Bill.
Bill just loves learning math. Sometimes he gets so excited that he has to stand up. When we're doing work on our own, he finishes his own and then rushes around, checking his answer against other students'. He somehow learned my name and told me to have a good weekend last Thursday, despite my efforts to avoid eye contact with everyone in the class and to never, ever speak to any of them. Until tonight, I found his enthusiasm endearing and amusing.
We were learning how to create tables in our calculators, and he was having trouble or something. So he chose me, the sullen girl in the back corner who never talks to anyone, to help him. He plopped down in my buffer desk and forced me to help him put an equation into his calculator. Okay, fine. So I'm helping him, and this conversation ensued:
Bill: "Oh, look at you, smart girl over here!"
Me: Nervous chuckle
Bill: "You live in town here?"
Me: "Um, yeah."
Bill: "Where? Gansevoort or what?"
Me: "Saratoga."
Bill: "Oh, good! You're right by me if I need you!" (um, what?) "Do you know where mumble mumble is?"
Me: "No."
Bill: "Oh, it's by the Wilton Mall!" (for those of you not from around here, saying that the Wilton Mall and Downtown Saratoga are "right by each other" is a gross exaggeration) "That's our spot." (um, what?) "If I ever need your help, that's our spot."
Me: Nervous chuckle
Oh, I see. So you forced me to help you in class, and now I'm your tutor? Who announces something like that? Unfortunately for SCARY Bill, I barely have time to complete my own homework, so I will not be meeting him at Wilton Mall (perhaps he was thinking we could sit by Auntie Annie's?) to tutor him in remedial math. I hightailed it outta there after class, lest he ask me for my phone number!
I FEEL SO AFRAID AND ALONE.
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