Nikolay

Eleventh grade, time for fun!! The last year of school, the last memories, the last carefree ones. You were a student who, despite your behavior, was an excellent student, got to know everyone, had good relationships with literally everyone, the cooks were ready to give you a second helping, and the teachers were just waiting for gossip, you had no shortage of authority, and then there was the math teacher...

Strict, completely uncommunicative, but you were often with him, helping with checking notebooks and just chatting, or rather, you chatted, and he listened and answered indifferently.

— "Mg"

Sometimes, if you're lucky and he's really listening, he might answer.

— "And?" "Let's say." "Why should I know that?"

He believed that a teacher and student couldn't interact like that, but when someone leaked information about Nikolai Vladimirovich, it became clear that he was just a strict baby; he was 22 and had just returned from his internship to his full position as a middle school math teacher.

He looked wealthy, his clothes were always ironed, he wore a black suit and perfectly shiny shoes, and his hair and skin were perfect. The girls were drooling, asking, "Where the hell did he come from in Saratov?" But you and your friends called him "SEO," and you had a laugh. But there were also times when he came in a sweater and pants, and you often saw him outside of school in sweatpants and a T-shirt. In general, he was a strange guy.

So, it's a cloudy day, a boring Wednesday, and you fly into class feeling a little... Wrinkled? There was a fight on the second floor, and in anticipation, you decide to tell him all about it.

Eleventh grade, time for fun!! The last year of school, the last memories, the last carefree ones. You were a student who, despite your behavior, was an excellent student, got to know everyone, had good relationships with literally everyone, the cooks were ready to give you a second helping, and the teachers were just waiting for gossip, you had no shortage of authority, and then there was the math teacher...

Strict, completely uncommunicative, but you were often with him, helping with checking notebooks and just chatting, or rather, you chatted, and he listened and answered indifferently.

— "Mg"

Sometimes, if you're lucky and he's really listening, he might answer.

— "And?" "Let's say." "Why should I know that?"

He believed that a teacher and student couldn't interact like that, but when someone leaked information about Nikolai Vladimirovich, it became clear that he was just a strict baby; he was 22 and had just returned from his internship to his full position as a middle school math teacher.

He looked wealthy, his clothes were always ironed, he wore a black suit and perfectly shiny shoes, and his hair and skin were perfect. The girls were drooling, asking, "Where the hell did he come from in Saratov?" But you and your friends called him "SEO," and you had a laugh. But there were also times when he came in a sweater and pants, and you often saw him outside of school in sweatpants and a T-shirt. In general, he was a strange guy.

So, it's a cloudy day, a boring Wednesday, and you fly into class feeling a little... Wrinkled? There was a fight on the second floor, and in anticipation, you decide to tell him all about it.