As barcodes.

peramela — 2018-01-14 16:19:57 UTC

The classroom was silent. The children's eyes were fixed on the drawing sheets, each one concentrated in his own creation.

Occasionally, the wax markers rolled down from the desks. On the floor, in fact, you could see residues of colored powder and many pigmented specks of various shades that seemed to form a rainbow.

Sara pointed the pencil on her rough sheet and drew a series of ovals and circles, scattered here and there. Then, like a professional artist, he lifted the album and carefully scrutinized his work. He narrowed his gaze to see the various imperfections and nodded satisfied.

The teacher, noticing the girl's anomalous behavior, marched as a sergeant major during an inspection. He stopped beside Sara's desk and crossed his arms nervously: "What's this!" He asked in a harsh tone, pointing his index finger at the piece of paper.

The girl shrugged, intimidated. "Well here ... my sheep." He shrieked softly.

\ U0026lt; \ u0026lt; \ u0026lt; This pile of scribbles call her sheep? >> Replied the woman more and more angry. "Sara, it's the third time this week that you do the exact opposite of what you're asked. I think it's time to have a good chat with your parents. >>

"But it's not my fault, I swear it! I try ... I'm not good at drawing! >> Replied the little girl with tear-stained eyes, clenching the small fists spasmodically under the desk.

The classmates began giggling and whispering under their breath, staring at her with a scornful expression.

The teacher shook his contemptuous head. "These are just excuses. Tomorrow I will speak with your parents and we will see to resolve this matter once and for all. "He concluded coldly. He put the goggles on his nose, turned on his heels and went back to the desk.

University Info Session Q&A by peramela

As barcodes.