The correct answer was answer C

[rosebaby3892]

The moment the idiot is no longer hiding his console (unless it's a WiiU, but then it's normal, he's just ashamed), jump up and grab it. This is where the sweetest part of all begins: check where the little button to press with a mine is on the console to erase all the saves, and while the bandit lies like a tooth-puller with "  It's not mine  ", "  I was just looking at the time  " or "  You don't have the right, you have to give it back to me ", slowly lower the mine with a criterion towards the "Reset" button. Little by little, the bandit will argue less and less and let out more and more porcine cries, until he rolls on the ground when you are only a millimeter away from the button in question, guardian of all his past games, his words somewhere between sick laughter and supplication.

Afterward, you won't see many consoles in class. You can, of course, take phone number list advantage of this psychological torture session to make the guy confess anything you want, like who emptied the fire extinguisher in the biology room. It's a bit like the Trial of the Knights Templar, but funnier, and without the curse or the adaptation of Maurice Druon's Jeanne Moreau. You still come out a winner.




When the teacher is tired of riding his unicorn for too long, sometimes he comes back surfing on a rainbow to offer new advice like "  The importance of trust in the student-teacher relationship ." And as a good teacher, it's up to you to follow his example. And to abuse it, of course.

So, during a test, make it clear that you don't want to see any cell phones and that they must be in school bags, and pencil cases on the table are only allowed if closed, which may seem obvious, but still. Emphasize that this is a sign of trust in your students, because you're definitely too nice, then let the test continue.

After about 20 minutes to let the suspicion settle, grab a pencil case at random and toss it in the air, whistling and only just catching it each time, muttering about your proverbial clumsiness. Keep going like this, and enjoy the look on the poor owner's face, devastated, fearing every second that his precious cell phone will leap out of the case he had cleverly left ajar and smash into a wall or a nearby table.

If this ever happens, react quickly: present yourself as a morally wounded victim, explaining that you trusted your students so much that such betrayal seemed unimaginable despite your instructions. With a bit of luck, and in the event of a lawsuit, it might even be the family who owes you money, like Bernard Tapie needing a few million to recover from the tragedy he went through.