Unsolvable Problem

Unsolvable Problem
They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but in this case I deem it necessary.
 Every day I would walk into class and hear, “You, go up and do number four”, calling on me each class period without fail. He knew all well that I wouldn’t know the answer to it, or even how to begin. Each class would begin the same; he would call three of four students up to do problems on the board knowing that the problems would be unsolvable for us.  Now I know he was trying to teach us how to solve an equation, but embarrassing me and others was no way to do it. The problems were not remedial or concepts we had learned in a previous class period it was all new information. There was always a student that could get one right but that was rare and hurt everyone’s self-esteem. I remember him saying on one occasion “Man, Jill you never get any of them right!” I went home crying.
I passed Algebra One with a “C”. But I learned almost nothing, failed his bogus exam and got a two on the End of Course (EOC). I still struggle with some algebraic concepts today. I wanted to get help but I was too embarrassed to ask him, knowing he was going to make fun of me. I could have gotten outside help but every time I asked I heard “Oh you have him, he will help you” or “You have him why are you struggling at all?”
I looked forward to my freshman year. No him, I started Algebra Two with a wonderful teacher, things were going well. I would see him every once and a while. He was gone a lot that year, which made me secretly happy.
He stopped me in the hall one day randomly. “I want to talk to you”. I expected the worst. “I always thought that you were a great student, that’s why I pushed you, I didn’t mean it personally I just wanted you to succeed, I know you probably hate me but you will thank me later.” I didn’t get a chance to say anything back. “Why would he put me through hell in Algebra One then say something like that in a hallway?” It weirded me out but those words meant so much to me and I wanted to thank him when I had the chance.
I never did though; He committed suicide soon after leaving me in shambles.
“Did he really mean what he said?” is a thought that come through me every once and awhile. I’m angry, confused and sad at his death. No one knows why he did it but my school mourned for months.
My friends will bring it up at from time to time sharing similar stories about him. My mom said that “He was going through a mental health emergency” and that was the cause for this. I still don’t know why he tortured me, confused me, then killed himself, but I guess I never will know.
In fact, I don’t want to know. It is not worth my time to worry about the past. It will always just be an unsolvable problem, just like the ones he would give me.