by The West Russian Federation of Vladilan. . 9 reads.

Education in Romania

The classroom was dead silent. The wooden Transylvanian shack was lit only by a faint stream of light coming in through the window. It was cold. The students were huddled in their uniforms, barely warm enough to sustain themselves. The teacher walked in. They looked less like an educator, and more a soldier. Their brown uniform and peaked cap made them look intimidating, let alone the pistol held in their holster.
The old monitor hooked up to the wall turned on, broadcasting the last executions. It hurt Ivan's legs, standing up at attention as they watched the brave soldiers stabbing the prisoners. The men cheered. Ivan didn't understand. Why were they cheering? Why was the man screaming so much? After an hour or so, the screen was turned off, and the teacher begun.
"As you have seen, the enemy's body resists. Their mouth screams, it tries to keep their brain in, but they want to die. It is their nature. Their subconscious is wired. They are prisoners in their own bodies, trapped by their inferior Teutonic bodies. Look closely. You see by the nose, and forehead. Primitive, close to that of an ape. Inferior to the elegant, well-sculpted face of a Romanian. And his mouth. See how it forms a muzzle, and juts out, like a dog.". Ivan didn't see it, but he knew better than to question teacher. "Now, let us begin our mathematics. A brave infantryman, on the front lines, fighting for our freedom, has thirty rounds in his magazine. He fires five bursts of three bullets average. How many bullets remain in his magazine?". Anna raised her hand immediately. "Fifteen, sir.".
"Correct. Open up page fifteen in your textbooks, and begin questions one through five."