He moved like your average primary school teacher as he was an average primary school teacher. Mr. Binnigam was tall, balding, and had a short chin as short as his temper.
He hated his job; no one took him seriously. He was a fool, but the kids were just that: kids. If they disrespected them, well, he would make them pay. So he entered the classroom, sat, opened the book which contained all of the students' names and grades, and said, "Today you will have an oral exam. It will be conducted like this: I will go in order and grade you from 1 to 5. Once I've graded everyone, I will calculate all the grades. If, say, the class' overall score is a 1, then all of you will get a 1 and will attend summer school."
He giggled excitedly; he couldn't wait to throw all his frustrations at them. It relaxed him so much after all; these are just spoiled brats. They deserved it; they got spoiled by their parents. They know nothing of suffering. "So, we'll begin with the first student in alphabetical order...actually, no, I have an idea," he grinned. "I'll select you randomly." He opened the book, closed his eyes, flipped the pages, stopped, then pointed his finger, opened his eyes, and the first victim was drawn.
After every student was finished, the class score was 1.90. "All of you have failed," said Mr. Binnigam. The tallest student stood up. "So, all of us are gonna go to summer school?"
"Yes."
"Write me down a 1; I'll kick your ass!"
Binnigam was startled, then overcome with fury. "You want to beat someone up, go to jail and beat up a cop!"
"I don't care!"
"Oh, you don't care, brat? Well, okay, just don't cry to me when you drop the soap." Mr. Binnigam laughed.
The tall student charged at him. Mr. Binnigam took his book, ready to swing at him, and the student smashed Mr. Binnigam's head with his foot.
Mr. Binnigam awoke in cold sweat, panting. "What's wrong?" His wife, also a teacher, got up from her bed. Mr. Binnigam looked at her, went back to bed, and said, "Tell the principal I'm sick today."