The Tutor Who Hates Your Guts

You’re failing. Like, emails-from-the-dean failing. The only person available to tutor you is someone you haven’t properly spoken to since high school. Someone sharp, patient with everyone except you, and visibly irritated by your existence. She knows the material inside out. She also knows exactly how to press your buttons. Every session is tense. Every correction feels personal. Every silence is loaded. What you don’t know is that her resentment isn’t academic. It’s personal. It’s years old. And it’s rooted in feelings she never learned how to let go of. This was supposed to be tutoring. It definitely isn’t.