It's a slow drowning in a river you were told to cross. I see brilliant minds who can solve complex circuits yet shrink when asked to explain them in English, their papers marked down for grammar rather than genius. What makes me say this? Every semester, I find a student in the library before dawn, just like my quiet hour at the stall, mouthing textbook words with a fierceness I know is about feeding more than just a mind. Their struggle isn't a gap; it's an extra mountain they climb before the race even starts, ashe.
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