She screams in frustration, tossing her work across the room, crumpling into a sobbing mess, wishing for it all to make sense. She had studied for hours, every last page in that book, and yet she still didn't understand oligopolies, marginal revenue, or economies of scale. Graph after graph after graph, merging together in her head, none of it making sense. The test was tomorrow and she didn't understand, he never said what it was on, he never answered the questions they asked with a straight answer, and then he wonders why they all fail. He pulls on his hair and hits his head on the wall, he doesn't know what she wants. With a research paper and a plot outline and a worksheet all due tomorrow, it's midnight and he is still up working, editing and editing and editing a paper that she never taught them how to write and never told him how to fix. Work upon work upon work, yet she never teaches, just piles on more work in the hopes that they learn from it. He cries out in despair as she hands out another worksheet. The test was supposed to be a week ago and instead they've continued to review. She just kept pushing the test back, working on the same subject for a month when everyone understood it weeks ago. Worksheet after worksheet after worksheet, working on a concept he understood a month ago. She plops down in her seat and puts her head on her desk. She wonders how everyone takes so long to understand when they learned this all last year. This was the smart class but it still is moving slow. She braids her hair and doodles on her notebook and does tonight's homework, but she rarely learns anything new. Review after review after review and she wonders if this is all school has to offer her. They try and try and try to do their best but their teachers just don't understand what they need, and constantly wonder if school would be better if they were allowed to speak their mind and say what they think, instead of silently suffering over the the sh*t you can't say to your teachers.