In the first year of baccaloriat, it was normal, I fell ill, like everyone else, I made new friends. There was a friend he was also a pianist, I liked the piano too, and classical dance, I liked to draw, well it doesn't matter now, it will come later. Back to my friend smati, he was a pianist and a faithful friend.
My math teacher was crazy, what was he doing? Nothing, during class, he spoke outside of lessons, he did not explain well, he let the students cheat during exams, he harassed the girls. One day he loved me told my mother that I'm sick mentally, and that he must help me .... Stop stop stop for a second, I'm sick because I ignore you and because I don't argue with you outside the lesson like the other girls?
Well you are a teenager in the body of a man, he even dared to send me nonsense one day, sir, I am at the age of your daughter, a bit of respect .
He was a stalker, he stalked girls. Because he knew he was not a good teacher, he let us cheat at the test. Even in overtime, he gave us no lesson, he did not explain well, during class he spent his time talking with us outside of class.
My Islamic education teacher, Mr. Marwan was the best of teachers. He loved us like his daughters and sons, he said (why would I give private school students high marks and public school students I would lower their marks?). He was a good professor.
The ayoub English teacher treated us like his little brothers and sisters, he is a nice teacher. Every time we go into his session they ask us how our weekends went, or how our vacations went. He did fun activities for us, he told us (if you have any problems, come tell me about them, I'll help you).
I can't talk about all the teachers because it's a lot
In the month of June, the day of the exam came. I thought I had done well in it, but I was wrong and failed for the second time
