That weirdly shaped ceramic bowl might be weirdly shaped, but Sasha was proud of something she not only made with her own two hands but got a passing grade on! Sure, it wasn't A+ design work, but Cs get degrees and that was all that mattered. Plus it held their keys and all sorts of knickknacks like the fun sized candy bars Sasha had tucked around the apartment and maybe a couple of rogue rubberbands. It was their idea of decor in their little piece of home in the rental that was loads better than the small trailer Sasha grew up in. Anything, even the shared housing unit, was an upgrade from that.
But she wasn't thinking about housing at the moment. Sasha was glaring down at the text book in front of her, brows furrowed in something that was a cross between confusion and annoyance. She knew college would be an uphill battle; in fact, most people were surprised she managed to make it out of high school in the first place, much less get accepted somewhere. But she had to get out of her little backwoods town somehow and this was the way. It was just far more difficult at some points than she imagined.
"This is stupid," she said through the mouthful of fries, too frustrated to properly thank Jean for the food. "Why do I need to know any of this?"
This, she pointed at, was a passage from some old fart—in her opinion—blathering on about the beauty of nature and a few simple questions reflecting on the piece. In short, it was English 100 coursework, not even 101, and Sasha was finding herself struggling again.
no subject
But she wasn't thinking about housing at the moment. Sasha was glaring down at the text book in front of her, brows furrowed in something that was a cross between confusion and annoyance. She knew college would be an uphill battle; in fact, most people were surprised she managed to make it out of high school in the first place, much less get accepted somewhere. But she had to get out of her little backwoods town somehow and this was the way. It was just far more difficult at some points than she imagined.
"This is stupid," she said through the mouthful of fries, too frustrated to properly thank Jean for the food. "Why do I need to know any of this?"
This, she pointed at, was a passage from some old fart—in her opinion—blathering on about the beauty of nature and a few simple questions reflecting on the piece. In short, it was English 100 coursework, not even 101, and Sasha was finding herself struggling again.