Sylvan Cheney flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed tightly.
"The math problem is so simple, how come you don't know how to do it?" Sylvan said coldly.
"Where is it simple, it's difficult." Chale retorted under his breath.
"If you don't know how to do it, why leave it blank? Hm? Why not ask the teacher?"
Chale pursed his lips and said nothing.
The little guy who had been chattering non-stop suddenly became very silent.
"Chale, you're becoming less and less serious about your studies," Sylvan angrily looked at his workbook.
He flipped to the last few pages and saw some drawings.
His little head was filled with all sorts of messy stuff.
The little guy was scolded by Sylvan and hung his head silently, twisting his hands, looking aggrieved.
Sylvan closed the workbook and tossed it to him carelessly: "You're troubling me."
"Dad, you don't teach me..." Chale muttered discontentedly.
"Don't you have teachers?"
"The teacher doesn't explain well, I want you to teach me."
