To everyone else it was just a test, a simple, silly little 60-second quiz. But I saw a wasteland. Nothing can produce evil-looking type like a ditto machine. It would start soon. Oh, God, let me make it this time.
Third graders know only two classifications.
I'd never make it. I was doomed, I knew it, but I tried to be valiant. I had reached problem four of twelve. They were talking about the easy ones and the hard ones, or the answer to number 10 or number 12. There would be no tears this time, though, no hot floods rushing down my cheeks to humiliate me further.