The teacher, actually teaching assistant, next door was always yelling. The kids were always talking, probably trying to push through the upsetting monotony of having to endure another three hours of school.
He was not a happy person, although he was a great tutor. A graduate from North High School, he was studying physics at Cal Poly Pomona. He was willing to drive the commute every two days, and after school he would come to Ivy.
He was a fine person to talk to one-on-one. Once, I even suggested he split the room in two and tally the sides that sat quieter. The side that got more points at the end of the day would leave the room first. It was nice that he was willing to take some direction from a teacher with a little more experience.
Unfortunately, he turned it into a futile punitive exercise. Sides could lose points, even get negative points. The losing side would then have to pick up trash and clean up the rest of the room.
The kids did not like the guy; most students do not like their teachers, who are stressed and pressed on all sides from parents and administrators expecting perfection, when no such thing happens.
It was a stressful venture for him; and boy was it a stressful venture for me.