I got into trouble with my English teacher, Sir Aizo. Last Tuesday, Sir Aizo had given us two sets of homework to be completed by today. He gave rigorous instruction that we had to submit them today. That way, he could correct them over the weekend and go through the mistakes with the class on Monday. The moment I arrived home, I quickly put down my back, took out the two worksheets and completed doing them. I clearly remember putting the worksheets back into my file once they were completed.
When I went to school today, Sir Aizo asked us to hand in our homework. I took out my file confidently but for some reasons that I could not think of, the worksheets were not in there! I gave out a loud gasp. I then thought that maybe I had put them into my bag directly rather than in the file. I rummaged through the bag but in vain. The worksheets were nowhere to be found. I simply could not remember where they were. I knew that I had done them and kept them decently. However, since I could not find them, I had no option but to tell Sir Aizo.
I walked towards the teacher’s table with tentative steps. I was preparing myself for a lecturer and a punishment. The class hushed when they realized what I was doing. They held their breath as they waited for the scene to happen. When I approached Sir Aizo, I could barely find my courage to talk to him. I told him what happened. My heart was pounding against my chest. As expected, Sir Aizo was fuming mad. He started to scold me about my lack of discipline, time management, my irresponsibility and so on. He told me to be more careful in the future. For the rest of my day, I was feeling sorry for myself. Eloquently, I tried to rack my brains to figure out what could have happened to my work.