Bucket: Now that’s dedication
He came to the final exam late, bucket in hand. It was square, 3.3 gallon, just like this one only bright yellow.
“Nice bucket,” I said. Wise guy.
He stuck it under his desk next to his knees, and got started.
About a half an hour later, he got up, bucket in hand, and bolted for the hallway.
I suddenly understood the bucket. I peeked into the hallway, but decided to give him his space. My only other choice would have been to offer to hold his forehead. I passed.
About ten minutes later, when things calmed down out there, I slipped into the hall.
“Would you like to just go home and finish this another time?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m OK.”
He left the bucket in the hallway, spent another half hour on his exam, and headed out into the snow with the bucket.
“Drive carefully,” I called.
He raised his bucket. Nuff said.