Me and a foreign rooster

Several times a week, I come into a room with a bright, blinding light, filled with unfamiliar bald roosters. The largest rooster walks in front of us for several dozen minutes, calling the smaller bald roosters degenerates. The big rooster speaks and writes in a different language. The symbols of this language frighten me every time.

I can't help but come into the room with the bald roosters and the incomprehensible symbols, because that's my job.

The big rooster prepares us for the ritual of the great sacrifice (we must do everything correctly and according to the instructions). Sometimes we make small sacrifices and rehearse the great one. But the other roosters are well versed in the language the big rooster speaks, while I feel too alien to it. But I still have to come into the room and sit, watching the big rooster draw the symbols.

This room is a mathematics classroom.