On a cold, dreary Saturday morning walked an old man with a distinctly pointed noise, warmly bundled up in an olive trench coat. He tried as hard as he could to keep his head down and facing the ground, in order to shield his face from the massive snowflakes which poured down upon him from the clear blue skies like rock-hard pellets. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts while focusing his gaze on the ground that little had he known that he had been walking in a busy town square, jam-packed with crowds of people, and had not been in just some isolated little garden of nothingness. However, the man had become instantly aware of the noisy surroundings when he took notice of the small children creating quite a hubbub right in front of him, making him stop in his tracks to see what the commotion was about.
He looked up to find that these weren’t children, alright. They were teenagers from Wintry Acres high school, which was located just down the street, and was the school where this man once taught World History. And what a job he had. It became his duty on a daily basis to deal with irresponsible teenagers who’d have preferred to have mini side-conversations instead of paying attention during his lectures, who weren’t motivated enough to complete their homework assignments, or most irritating of all, who had the courage to challenge his viewpoints on important world issues. As if they knew. They were just teens, after all. It was ridiculous for them to be arguing against a history teacher who spent years studying and perfecting his knowledge of current and past world events.

This is something I wrote a while ago, but reading it now, I feel that it doesn't exactly hold the reader's attention. What do you think?