Due to recent events in the world, I’ve increasingly had to take work home. My main source of income now is tutoring. I give private lessons to my students, and honestly, I’ve even started to like this format: no need to travel anywhere, everything is at hand.
Today I have a lesson for two students at once — Venessa and Yurika. The girls are capable, but unfortunately, they’ve fallen a bit behind the group. It’s clear that the school curriculum is hard for them, especially after long absences. We’ll be catching up on what they’ve missed. I hope today’s lesson will be productive — I’ve prepared a few interesting tasks for them to liven them up a bit and restore their confidence.
The doorbell rang. On the threshold stood Venessa — out of breath, with disheveled hair and a heavy bag that looked like it might burst from the number of textbooks inside.
“Sorry, may I come in? The elevator’s broken, so I came up the stairs on foot… it’s the fifth floor, after all,” she blurted out, trying to catch her breath.
I smiled and stepped aside, letting her into the entryway.
“Come in, of course. It’s tough without an elevator, huh? Take your things off; Yurika isn’t here yet, so there’s time to catch your breath.”
Venessa kicked off her sneakers, clumsily shoving them under the coat rack with her foot, and dropped her bag on the floor with such a crash it sounded like there were bricks inside, not notebooks.
The entryway was stuffy. Venessa, without even really taking her things off, unzipped her backpack, rummaged inside, and pulled out a small battery-powered fan.
“The heat’s unbearable,” she muttered, pressing the button. The fan whirred to life, and she directed the airflow onto her face with obvious pleasure, brushing away strands of hair that had stuck to it. “Walking up to the fifth floor is an ordeal.”
I spread out the notebooks on the table and gave Venessa the first assignment — the simplest equation, one we’d gone over a hundred times. She picked up her pen, looked at the board, then at her notebook, and her face fell.
“So, do I move this over here?” she asked, blinking her eyes.
I sighed. Venessa was sweet, diligent, but, let’s be honest, not the sharpest tool in the shed. A bit slow. I had to explain things five times, using my fingers, but the knowledge still evaporated faster than it could stick.
I leaned over her notebook to point out the mistake, and suddenly realized I wasn’t looking at the notebook at all. Venessa’s simple white t-shirt was stretched tight over her chest — huge, heavy, impossible to ignore. The fabric pulled taut with each breath she took.
I straightened up and cleared my throat.
“…you move it with the opposite sign. Go on, try it yourself.”
My voice came out a little hoarse. Venessa nodded and bent back over her notebook, biting her lip, completely oblivious to my discomfort. I stared out the window and tried to recall the multiplication table, just to distract myself somehow.
The doorbell rang. I flinched in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief — just in time, a little more and I would have completely lost the thread of the lesson.
“Oh, that must be the second one arriving,” I said out loud, more to myself than to Venessa. “Keep sitting and solving; I’ll get the door.”
I opened the door. On the threshold stood Yurika — out of breath, with temples damp from sweat and a bottle of water in her hand.
“The elevator’s dead,” she exhaled instead of a greeting. “I walked. The fifth floor is brutal.”
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside. “Venessa’s already here; she came on foot too.”
Yurika kicked off her sneakers, tossed her backpack by the coat rack, and without even glancing at herself in the mirror, padded into the room.
“Hi, slowpoke,” she said to Venessa, plopping down onto the chair next to her.
“Slowpoke yourself,” Venessa replied, not looking up from her notebook. “I’ve almost solved the equation here.”
Yurika snorted skeptically and reached into her backpack for her notebook.
I sat them down at the table — Venessa on the left, Yurika on the right. In front of each was a notebook, a pen, and scratch paper. They both had a look on their faces like they’d come not to do math, but to do hard labor. Venessa was still fanning herself with her notebook, while Yurika was greedily drinking water from a bottle.
“Alright, girls,” I clapped my hands, getting their attention. “Let’s get started. Yurika, catch up on the topic; we’ve already been working for about ten minutes. Venessa, show me what you’ve got.”
To be continued…
