Cours — Physique Bac Math

His father came home from work, loosening his tie. He peeked over Youssef’s shoulder. “Radioactivity? You’re mixing uranium decay with coffee stains?”

It was the last week of May, and the air in the small Tunisian apartment was thick with the smell of strong coffee and anxiety. On the kitchen table, a massive, spiral-bound notebook lay open. On its cover, written in bold blue ink, were the words: . Cours Physique Bac Math

He turned a page. The handwriting there was neater, the diagrams drawn with a compass and a ruler. This was the section on Mécanique du point . He remembered September, full of hope, learning about projectile motion. Back then, the Bac seemed as distant as a distant galaxy. His father came home from work, loosening his tie

That afternoon, Youssef came home. His face was unreadable. He walked past his mother, past the waiting coffee, and sat down in front of the . You’re mixing uranium decay with coffee stains

“Well?” his mother asked.

Youssef looked at the . He wasn't afraid of the proton. He was afraid of Exercise 4 , the one with the charged particle in a crossed E and B field. The one where if you got the sign wrong, the particle flew into the void instead of forming a beautiful cycloid.

“Exercise 4 was a cycloid. And I drew it perfectly.”