Daily Sketch: Psychological Warfare

Back in high school, I had this one French teacher, Madame Muraca. Unlike most teachers, she made no effort to hide just how lovably diabolical she could be.

I distinctly remember this one year, where French was the last class before our winter vacation. We were all fidgeting, dreading what kind of hellish homework load she was going to assign us over the break, but she instead said NOTHING.

For the last twenty minutes or so, all she did was sit at her desk. Grinning. Watching us squirm and loving it.

God I miss her.