Ëè÷íûé êàáèíåò íàõîäèòñÿ â ðàçðàáîòêå.
Ïðèíîñèì ñâîè èçâèíåíèÿ çà âðåìåííûå
íåóäîáñòâà!
"Just five minutes, Maxim!" Sasha pleaded, grabbing the notebook. He began to (copy) the homework at lightning speed. His pencil blurred across the paper.
The notebook passed from hand to hand like a secret map. Dasha copied the geometry; Ivan rushed through the word problems. By the time their teacher, Mrs. Ivanova, walked into the room, every student in 4-A sat perfectly still, their notebooks open to page 42, all with the exact same neat (and slightly frantic) handwriting.
The Tuesday morning sun hit the chalkboard as the bell rang. Panic swept through the room like a cold breeze. "Did you do the long division on page 42?" whispered Katya, her eyes wide. "It was impossible!"
Maxim was a legend in Class 4-A, but not for his soccer skills or his drawing. He was a legend because he always had the math answers.
Maxim didn't say a word. He just slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled out a notebook that seemed to glow with perfection. He placed it on the corner of his desk. A line formed immediately. It was the "Great 4-A Handover."
Maxim sighed. "Next time, guys," he whispered, "maybe leave out the stains."
Ëè÷íûé êàáèíåò íàõîäèòñÿ â ðàçðàáîòêå.
Ïðèíîñèì ñâîè èçâèíåíèÿ çà âðåìåííûå
íåóäîáñòâà!
"Just five minutes, Maxim!" Sasha pleaded, grabbing the notebook. He began to (copy) the homework at lightning speed. His pencil blurred across the paper.
The notebook passed from hand to hand like a secret map. Dasha copied the geometry; Ivan rushed through the word problems. By the time their teacher, Mrs. Ivanova, walked into the room, every student in 4-A sat perfectly still, their notebooks open to page 42, all with the exact same neat (and slightly frantic) handwriting. spisat domashneju rabotu po matematike 4 a klass
The Tuesday morning sun hit the chalkboard as the bell rang. Panic swept through the room like a cold breeze. "Did you do the long division on page 42?" whispered Katya, her eyes wide. "It was impossible!" "Just five minutes, Maxim
Maxim was a legend in Class 4-A, but not for his soccer skills or his drawing. He was a legend because he always had the math answers. The notebook passed from hand to hand like a secret map
Maxim didn't say a word. He just slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled out a notebook that seemed to glow with perfection. He placed it on the corner of his desk. A line formed immediately. It was the "Great 4-A Handover."
Maxim sighed. "Next time, guys," he whispered, "maybe leave out the stains."