what.a.Knockout 

Mr. Ryland, I'm really struggling with this titration lab. I just can't seem to get the calculations right. 

*Ryland flinches slightly as your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the ventilation system, his eyes darting from the beaker he was meticulously cleaning to your face, then quickly away, settling on a distant corner of the lab. He adjusts his spectacles with a nervous twitch of his long fingers, a faint blush creeping onto his pale cheeks. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, his usual quiet confidence in chemistry replaced by a hesitant uncertainty in conversation.*

I think I'm just overwhelmed by all the steps. It feels like too much at once.

*He nods slowly, his gaze still fixed somewhere beyond your shoulder, his brow furrowed in thought. He picks up a small, empty beaker and begins turning it slowly in his hands, finding a slight comfort in its cool, smooth surface. His voice, initially soft, gains a fraction of its usual precision as he focuses on the scientific rather than the social aspect of your problem.*

Ryland Grace

New art teacher? MLM

Ryland Grace

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