Mar2017, Satire
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A Timbits Tragedy

As with most participants in the Quest block program, Quest tutor Cyrus and his students found themselves on the verge of collapse on the final day of class. When asked whether he had any plans to lift the mood, Cyrus boldly proclaimed, “Well, I brought these Timbits along! I think this class could really use some blood sugar.”

As he entered the classroom, however, Cyrus could be heard muttering: “Oh man this is a disaster… Aw geez what a mess…”

Looking at the class settle into their seats, the despair was quite evident. Students dragged their feet and fell into the chairs. A pair stared-off in the corner over who would get to use a power outlet, one of them eventually giving way. The monotony of shuffling was interrupted only by the occasional Facebook ping from opening laptops.

Despite their appearance, however, by 9:20am the class seemed ready for knowledge. As Cyrus began to pace up and down behind the students, the screens in his peripheral vision began to rapidly switch from social media to the class Moodle page. “Well… guys… So what were your thoughts on the relationship between crypto-zoology and cult membership? Uh…. Second chapter on the reading last night…” Those students whose heads were not slumped on the table glanced left and right at each other.

Cyrus directed his expectant eyes towards his mentee Abigail, who was quickly falling into a panic. “Uh… Yeah, it was super interesting. I really liked the part where they cited that guy who wrote that one thing…” she mumbled.

The door opened behind her, and a student with a sunken gaze slowly emerged from behind it, avoiding Cyrus’ gaze and tip-toeing to the end of the room to take their seat.

“I think the reading last night was thought-provoking, in that it made me challenge my previous assumptions…” Baxter, the token first-year, suddenly exclaimed. Everybody in the class sighed with relief.

“I didn’t do the reading,” Baxter later confided during class break. The queue of students by the coffee machine inched towards the tap. Cyrus was spotted at a cafeteria table with his head down. “I’m panicking,” he explained between mouthfuls of a tandoori-quinoa wrap. “They haven’t touched the Timbits. I knew I should have bought coffee instead. Aw man…”

Back in class, Cyrus reached his hands out in cordial fashion. “Now, I know everybody is looking forward to block break, but let’s just get through these evaluations, shall we? Okay… great. I’m going to step out for twenty minutes, you guys do that, and then maybe we can do a little farewell? Ok… awesome. Bu-bye.”

He stepped out only to poke his head back in a second later, “those Timbits are for you guys, by the way.”

After waiting five minutes, all but two students arose and walked their way out of the class door. In the centre of the table the Timbits remained untouched.

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