(Lights up on a classroom. TEACHER is writing on a whiteboard, which is perpendicular to the audience. There are three desks arranged in a loose row, facing the whiteboard. STUDENT #1, who is trying to take notes, occupies the first desk. STUDENT #2, who is staring off into the distance, occupies the second desk. STUDENT #3 is at the third desk, with his/her head down, fast asleep.)

TEACHER: And finally, we bring down the six, carry the nine…and there you have it! We’ve calculated the mass of the sun to the eleventh decimal place. It’s very straightforward math, really. Any questions?

STUDENT #1: (timidly raises hand) Um…

TEACHER: Yes?

STUDENT #1: I don’t get it.

TEACHER: Excuse me?

STUDENT #1: (more firmly) I don’t get it.

TEACHER: (baffled) Well, you’re going to have to be more specific than that. What don’t you get about it?

STUDENT #1: Um, any of it.

TEACHER: Well, weren’t you paying attention when I was explaining the concept just a second ago?

STUDENT #1: I really was trying, but…

TEACHER: But what?

STUDENT #1: (looking down, shy) You were going a little fast.

TEACHER: I’m sorry, but I can’t go any slower. I understand that this course is designed for students who haven’t done so well in math and need that one final credit. And I know that your success in my class will determine whether or not you graduate. But the state has certain standards. I can’t pass you all in good conscious if you don’t learn all of the material.

STUDENT #1: (under breath) That’s why.

TEACHER: What did you say?

STUDENT #1: Look, I don’t think any of us here actually care about graduating high school. Our parents are just forcing us for some reason or another.

TEACHER: That’s…that’s preposterous! Why aren’t you going to pursue further education? That’s how you get a good job and get paid well.

STUDENT #1: I…(seems to have run out of steam, looks down)

STUDENT #2: (mockingly) “Pursue further education. Get a good job. Get paid well.” That’s all it is with you people, isn’t it?

TEACHER: What do you mean? It’s my job to prepare you for the future.

STUDENT #2: Oh, really? How is all of this math stuff going to prepare me for the future? I mean, I have learned a couple of useful things in school, like how to manage my time, how to deal with failure, how to work in groups, but I certainly didn’t learn any valuable lessons from sitting at a desk while people talk at me.

TEACHER: We have to give you guys foundations in every subject, so you can get any job you want.

STUDENT #1: (interjecting, less timid than before) I want to be a singer when I grow up.

TEACHER: (grimacing a little) A singer?

STUDENT #1: Yep. People always told me in elementary school I could be whatever I wanted. Yet by the time I was in high school, that changed. I’m not sure why.

TEACHER: I’m sure you’re great at singing, but let’s be realistic…

STUDENT #1: I am being realistic. There’s no other job I want in the world. I couldn’t be happy sitting in a cubicle. I don’t plan on being famous, but I’m confident I’ll be able to survive as a singer somehow. I’ll be able to do anything if I can endure this lightning-speed paced math class.

TEACHER: (suddenly emotional, alarming the students) Oh, really? So, you think that this math class goes too fast? Let me tell you something. This is a snail’s crawl compared to the way life speeds by! One day, you’re marrying the love of your life who’s pregnant with twins, and your hopes are high that you’ll land a rewarding job as a math professor. But those carefree days will go like that (snaps fingers). Suddenly, you’ll be teaching high schoolers who are just as burnt out as you are, and your wife is now your ex. You’ll know that the closest you’ll ever be to happiness is when the kids come by for Christmas and the 4th of July weekend. And even still, their mother tells them lies about you. Your own daughters dread coming to your house. They won’t even call you “dad” anymore. (pauses briefly, overcome with grief) I’m not even a dad anymore! What did I do wrong? Why does life mean suffering? I DON’T GET IT!

(TEACHER flops against the whiteboard, crying for a moment. STUDENTS #1 and #2 watch in shock. TEACHER finally collects himself and resumes.)

TEACHER: See, kids…you just haven’t seen what the world is really like.

STUDENT #2: (still harsh) Oh yes, you adults always like to tell us itty-bitty teenagers how we don’t know what real pain is.

TEACHER: You really don’t!

STUDENT #1: My grandparents don’t want to be in the same room as me because I’m gay. My parents might pray for me every day, but the last time they said “I love you” was before I came out. Why can’t they love me more than their religious beliefs? I’ve seen what the world is really like. And I don’t get it.

(Tense silence in the room before Student #2 pipes up.)

STUDENT #2: My cousin killed herself two years ago, and not a day has gone by when I didn’t wonder that if only I had called her more often, if only I had sent her a card for her birthday every year, if only I had shown her that I loved her, maybe she would still be alive. Why didn’t I? I don’t get it.

(There is another tense silence in the room, and then Student #3 raises his/her head and speaks.)

STUDENT #3: (speaking condescendlngly to all present) I never knew my father. And my mother hung herself from a ceiling fan when I was seven years old. I moved in with my grandmother, but she generally prefers booze to me and disappears for days at a time. Every night, I desperately hope she’ll come home and realize that I never touch any of the food in the house. But she’s never noticed I don’t eat, and she never will. I don’t get it. I don’t know why bad stuff happens. But I do know that’s how life is. And there’s no use sitting around and complaining about it. (softens a bit) Life is complicated and weird and messy. So we have to learn to function with the few good things we have. We have to hang on.

(STUDENT #3 puts head back down. TEACHER and STUDENTS #1-2 look at the floor, deep in thought.)

TEACHER: (returns to whiteboard like nothing happened. Fades as speech progresses.) Let’s go over this process again. We know that the number 27 in this equation represents…

(All freeze and lights go down.)