"I’m never going to finish this," Maxim muttered, glancing at the clock. It was already 7:00 PM, and he had soccer practice tomorrow.
In a quiet suburb of Moscow, ten-year-old Maxim sat at his kitchen table, staring at a page of grammar exercises that looked more like ancient hieroglyphs than Russian. His textbook, , lay open to a particularly brutal section on complex sentence structures. "I’m never going to finish this," Maxim muttered,
Desperate, he grabbed his laptop and typed a frantic string of keywords into the search bar: "I’m never going to finish this