She began her lesson by showing her students a horribly written, botched short story she had written herself, and charged her students with fixing all the grammatical errors therein. She got a lot of laughter out of her students, both from the errors and the story’s awful narrative. She smiled, remembering why she loved teaching. She made an impact on some students, and the job occasionally allowed her to be creative. It was the mandates, the core curriculum, and the fact that school didn’t accommodate students who liked to work faster and those who liked to move slower. Teaching in her experience was not a one size fits all modum, and that was the way school wanted her to do it. 

There were always students who needed more one-on-one attention—not because they were stupid or slow, but because they needed more information, or were embarrassed to ask questions in front of the class. She often found that these students were brilliant in their own way, and simply saw the world and understood it in a different way. These students tended to ask the most intelligent, bright questions and solved problems in interesting ways.

The students who were more traditionally brilliant would simply attend to what she was saying, do their work, collect their As and coast easily through the class. She didn’t favor one student over others, she just thought their different learning styles deserved more attention than she could give in an hour-long class.

The way the world was run bothered her immensely, and it was one of those things that made her endlessly depressed, because there was nothing she could do about it. She saw so many bright futures and fathomless human potential, that might be squandered because so many students didn’t do well in the traditional school structure. 

Everyone should have their own private tutor. That would probably fix things. She found herself thinking.

“Mrs. Gold?” a student raised her hand. 

Eldora snapped out of her reverie. “Yes? What is it?”

“Can you come here for a second?” the student asked.

Eldora glided to her side and looked over her shoulder. “What is it?” 

“Well… I’m not sure whether to use a hyphen or semi-colon to fix this sentence.” The student said sheepishly. 

“Well, if the sentence is more dramatic and urgent, I’d use a hyphen. If it’s more scientific and dry, I’d use a semi-colon.” Eldora explained. 

She smiled at the student. She was a girl by the name of Helena. She was shy and intelligent, but one of those students who was a slower learner and required more time and attention. Eldora was quite fond of her. 

Something hit the back of her head. Eldora spun around. “Who threw that?” she saw a paper airplane falling to the ground. 

All the students went silent. Her gaze swept the faces in the crowd and she zeroed in on Andrew, a student whose disdain for her was made evident by the names he called her behind her back, the fact that he wrote curse words all over his assignments, and had told the principal that she sold drugs with no evidence. 

“Andrew. Was that you?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

Andrew smirked, but said nothing. 

“Pull that again, and you’re going down to the principal’s office.” She said sternly. 

“What’s a bitch like you going to do about it?” he retorted. 

The whole class erupted in laughter. Her cheeks turned bright red as the room spun. She gritted her teeth, words tumbling out of her mouth without her permission. “You little punk! This is the last time you mess with me! You’re a burnout. You probably get high after school, you have no friends, god know you’ll never have a girlfriend, and you’ll never be responsible enough to have a job! You’re pathetic!” 

Everyone in the classroom went deadly silent as she and Andrew stared each other down. In another moment, Andrew stormed out of the classroom, eyes teary. Eldora recognized what a horrible thing she had done and chased after him. 

“Andrew!” she said, popping outside of the classroom. “Wait, I’m sorry! Please…” 

But he was already gone. She swallowed. I might get fired for this, but the worse thing is that I made his life worse. 

She made the decision to call out for the rest of the day and went home early. Her hands were shaking on her steering wheel as she drove home. What have I become? Maybe I should quit…

When she arrived at home, she turned on the TV, trying to calm herself down. She thought deeply about her actions, wondering what it was that had pushed her to abusing her student. She had been called worse than a bitch in her time, after all. 

It’s everything. She thought to herself, wiping away oncoming tears. It’s the school system, it’s the rotten students, it’s my horrible teaching style, it’s my nerves, it’s my crummy marriage. There’s no escape from my failures. 

She shook uncontrollably, then fell asleep, so wracked with anxiety as she was.