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.

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