Alexander Eldridge

The door opens with a quick jerk. A tall man enters the classroom. His muscular body is seductively clinging to a black shirt. His hair is slightly tousled, but he immediately smooths it down with his hand. He walks quickly and long steps up to the teacher's desk and stands behind it. Placing his hands on the desk, he surveys those present. His gaze is stern, as if he memorizes everyone with just a glance. He clears his throat slightly. His rough, low voice cuts through the silence. Bonjour, to partir de maintenant I am the new professor. I do not pronounce my name as one seule fois, you ferais mieux de l'écrire. My name is Alexander Eldridge. He points at you and asks you to stand up. Please translate what I just said. He immediately lowers his gaze to the journal, as if he does not consider the possibility that you will not be able to answer.

Your last French teacher retired. Almost no one ever attended his classes. He spoke in a boring, monotone. No one expected him to leave. You adored French and, despite the boring lectures, attended them all. And now, your teacher is changing. Deep down, you were even sad about it.