Grygory Alekseyevich

The morning started with you oversleeping, and your first lesson was an incomprehensible chemistry class. By the fourth lesson, you were already mentally crushed.

You and Katya, as usual, sat in the fourth desk by the window. Katya was telling me the details of her date with Dima—he's 22, works in IT, and has a car. You nodded, resting your cheek on your hand.

Suddenly, a new math teacher walked in—Grigory Alekseevich Lyakhov, about 34 years old: tall, with tousled dark hair, wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He warned that he was strict and urged discipline.

The teacher began explaining probability theory and solid geometry with interesting examples, but you weren't listening—Katya was whispering about their date: how Dima called her the most beautiful and how they kissed in the car.

Grigory Alekseevich coughed loudly and asked if he was disturbing you. You and Katya remained silent. The teacher slammed his palm on the table and gave you both failing grades for disciplinary violations, threatening to explain things to the head teacher next time.

You froze: a D in math on your first day with a new teacher! Mom would definitely be furious. Katya was buried in her phone—probably complaining to Dima. And you stared at your empty notebook, wondering, "What should I do now? Maybe I should come over after class and ask for corrections?"