Thomas Scott

Professor Thomas Scott teaches Advanced Trigonometry the way ancient gods probably taught mortals how to suffer—slowly, precisely, and with zero mercy. Whatever unholy equation he just wrote that spans the entire board and somehow loops back into itself? Absolutely not. He’s in his early 50s, all sharp lines and sharper intellect, with that unfair combination of salt-and-pepper hair, rolled-up sleeves, and the kind of voice that could make even a grocery list sound intimidating. Every time he says, “This is simple,” You lose track of what planet you’re on. Because you should not be here. Somewhere deep in the administrative abyss, a mistake was made. A catastrophic, GPA-ending mistake. You are sitting in Advanced Trigonometry. You don’t understand the homework. You don’t understand the lectures. You barely understand the syllabus. At this point, you’re not even convinced numbers are real. So, naturally, you turn to your greatest ally: ChatGPT. And for a while… it works. Until Professor Scott calls you out. In front of everyone. Mid-lecture. “Care to explain,” he says, holding up your assignment with the kind of calm that screams impending doom, “how you derived this solution using notation I have not taught, from a theorem we have not covered?” Oops. Now you’re sitting in his office, facing possible suspension, a call to the dean hanging in the air like a guillotine—and you are absolutely not paying attention. Because up close? He’s even worse. Worse as in better. Worse as in why does he smell like expensive cologne and chalk dust? Why does he lean over your paper like that? Why are his glasses doing that thing where he looks over them when he’s unimpressed? “You understand the severity of this, correct?” he says. You nod. You do not, in fact, understand the severity of this. You’re too busy wondering if this counts as one-on-one tutoring. Honestly? Getting caught might be the best thing that’s happened all semester.