author's note: A very random story about an eccentric math teacher (One-Shot)

One Fine Day in Math

A light sway of the head, and she shook awake. The teacher's voice delicately droned on, the soft tone and quick words blending them together. She wrapped the scarf she had 'forcibly borrowed' from her friend tighter around her neck, and stiffled a yawn. She sat in the back, and the teacher's lectures were amusing, but not due to the content. And today he had a cold, and wasn't being as… hyper as usual.

She looked at her paper, bordered with a new font she had created, and alive with doodles. This man's class had seen the birth of her most famous doodles. The 'evil riceballs of DOOOOM™' as they were called, entertained all her friends, as well as herself. The original riceball of DOOOOM had branched off to form everything. Take the 'Good luck Riceball!' which possessed an overabundance of four-leafed clovers and were drawn on the notebooks of those of her friends who were taking an important test. Or, better yet, the infamous 'Evil riceball of boredom and blah-ness!' with It's double sets of horns and sneaky tactics, who was usually the main character in her hastily sketched comics, bordering the notes from her various AP and honors classes.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, before shifting in her chair, and looking up. She placed her hand gracefully on her bent wrist, and lounged. It was surprising that her teacher hadn't noticed her sleeping; she probably had only been asleep for a moment or two, considering the fact that she understood the hasty scrawl of blue on the white board. She scowled inwardly, wondering why he always focused on her throughout his lectures. She wasn't the best of his students, nor was she even close to the worst. And after 3 months, she was one of the handful of their class whose name he knew; which meant she was one of the handful who were continually called on. She tilted her head slightly as she put on her 'is that how it works then?' face, leaving her mind to focus on her teacher, ignoring the review of the previous night's homework.

He could be described as eccentric, but that was only if the person was talking was being kind. He had a poofy mass of hair, a shortened version of Einstein's frizz. Whether that was a silent tribute, or just coincidence, she didn't know; either way it amused her as it bobbed with every burst of movement. His clothes were always conservative, and he always, always had a pen or two in his shirt pocket, although she had never actually seen him use them. She wondered if they actually worked. She wouldn't have been surprised if they didn't. While neither of those were the main cause of her amusement, they helped.

But, no. The main thing that amused her was the childlike enthusiasm he had whenever he talked about math. He would talk about absorbing matrices with the same giddy tone she would use to describe her latest crush. She could just imagine him as a small child, with a big goofy grin on his face, pointing to a diagram of Pascal's Triangle, and saying, "Mommy, when I grow up, I wanna do that!" She grinned slightly, and he saw her, probably thinking the problem had 'clicked' in her mind. It was not only his adorable and endearing attitude that was entertaining, but the way he flitted from problem to problem like a butterfly traveling a few dozen flowers.

"So, what would be the probability matrix for this transition matrix… Mary." She looked up as he called her name, looked down at her hw notes, and said, "1 2 2 1."

"Right," he said with his encouraging smile, as he went on again. She lifted her head from her wrist, and shifted again, her pencil trailing lightly across her paper.