“That’s all for today, class. Take this assignment sheet off my desk as you go, the due date’s on the back. Don’t forget mid-year assessments are in two months, so look over your notes and review the texts we've studied.” The teacher droned on, but Minho wasn’t listening, he rarely did. He had no classes after this, he had lunch then a study line with his friend Taemin. Of course, by 'study line' he meant 'putting their work in front of them and then goofing off for the next few hours'.

“Minho, can I have a word?” The words stopped him in his tracks. “Sit down. You’re not in trouble.”

His words didn’t put Minho at ease. Being stopped on the way out of class meant nothing good for anyone, least of all C-minus-average Choi Minho. The teacher stood up and shut the door before sitting at his desk.

“Minho, you are passing. But barely, by the skin of your teeth, in fact.”

Minho nodded. He was passing, that was all he cared about. Communications wasn’t his strongest subject anyway. He only took it because on this line it was either that or English, which was hell on Earth as far as Minho was concerned. Japanese was as far into languages as he went, and his grip on that was shaky at best. 

“If you don’t pick up your grades soon, you won’t pass your exams. Your last few assignments just wouldn’t make the cut, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, I’ll do better, I promise.” He didn’t mean it; he didn’t care about communications. This semester they’d been looking at gender differences and stereotypes reflected in texts. It wasn’t that he didn’t think this issue was relevant, but when he left school he wanted to play soccer or model. What difference was a social activist's point of view going to make? 

“I’m not looking for a half-hearted promise, Minho. I’m looking for a serious commitment to improving your grade. I want you to sign up for our tutoring program.”

Minho nearly choked.

.....·• •·....