High Diction

     This fine morning, I departed English class promptly and began descending the stairs towards my mathematics class. As I walked, the thronging mass divided itself into tributaries and I endeavored to ensure that I had discovered the correct one. Eventually, the lethargic crowd awoke and sorted themselves into their respective destinations. I entered my classroom, the second to arrive, and immediately began transcribing a copy of the night's assignment. Soon, the rest of the class entered and seated themselves in their desks, and the lesson commenced

     The lecture shed light on the division of polynomials, and stratagems to use when pursuing the quotient, such as synthetic division. Although dull at times, I ensured that my eyes remained focused so as to be prepared for the toil that was to come. After a half-hour of explanation, the toil in question began. I am now led to believe that sadists locked up in some godforsaken asylum were the authors of my textbook, as the difficulty of two of the problems bordered on the ridiculous. Although the concept that these writers sought to explain was simple in nature, they attempted to include every possible complexity. Soon, the class ended and I was forced to complete the assignment elsewhere.