Mariely arrived at the faculty room. It was quiet—most teachers were probably already in class. Her eyes immediately landed on a vacant table.

“Are you the new teacher for Third Year, Section D?”

The sudden question startled her.

She nodded, still caught off guard.

“Oh—sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” The woman smiled apologetically and scratched her head. “I’m Veron Camille Ronda.”

“Ah, Faith Mariely Celestial,” Mariely replied, shaking her hand with a smile.

“Let me walk with you. I’m headed that way too—our classrooms are right next to each other,” Veron offered.

“Thanks. This school is huge,” Mariely said with a small laugh. “I might get lost.”

Veron laughed, and they headed down the hallway together. Conversation came easily. Mariely quickly learned that Veron was also a fresh graduate—an English major—and, like her, preparing for the board exams.

Before they parted ways, Veron stopped and looked at her seriously.

“Mariely,” she said gently, “even though Section D is noisy and unruly… they still need a teacher who understands them.”

Mariely nodded, holding onto that thought.

Veron’s classroom—Section C—was right next door. Alone now, Mariely took a deep breath as she stood before her classroom door.

From outside, she could already hear the chaos—shouting, laughter, and—

—fighting?!

She pushed the door open.

Two students were throwing punches. The rest of the class paused briefly to look at her—then went right back to shouting. Some even placed bets.

Oh my God… please give me patience, she prayed silently.

Without even putting her things down, she rushed forward.

*****

“So that’s the new teacher?”

Frank leaned back in his chair, eyeing the door his mother had just closed.

“Yes,” Becca replied without looking up from her papers. “She’s a fresh graduate. Now—why are you here again?”

“Oh, come on,” he said casually, sitting in the vacant chair. “Can’t I visit my own mother at school?”

“I know you too well, Zean Frank Jordan Montero,” Becca said sharply, finally looking up. “What are you really up to?”

“Whoa. Chill, Mom.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I just came by to… evaluate the new hire.”

“And?”

“Do you honestly think she can change those kids?” Frank asked bluntly.

Becca said nothing, waiting.

“In today’s world, even educators need money,” he continued. “I don’t buy your idealism anymore. She’ll give up—it’s a waste of time.”

“Things don’t change overnight,” he added. “Young people today are different.”

“Are you done?” Becca returned to her paperwork.

Frank sighed. “Yeah. Bye, Mom. I’ve got work to do.”

He respected his mother deeply. She had balanced teaching and motherhood flawlessly. Still, Frank had never admired the profession itself. Teaching, in his eyes, led nowhere—no success, no wealth.

Ironically, his mother came from privilege and still chose it.

As he walked past the faculty, he smirked. Their youthful energy reminded him more of students than professionals.

Women will always be girls, he thought.

And yet…
the new teacher intrigued him.

There was something different about her—something unlike the women he usually met.

Let’s see, he mused as he headed to his car.

*****

“Stop it—now!”

Mariely managed to step between the two fighting students. Fear clenched her chest, but she refused to show it. She already felt lightheaded.

The room fell silent.

She separated the boys—one with a bleeding nose, the other with a bruised face. The second looked ready to strike again but froze when she stepped closer.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke calmly.

“Can you tell me why you’re fighting?”

“Eh? Who are you?” a boy drawled from his seat, eyeing her lazily.

Patience, El. Patience…

“Before I introduce myself,” she said evenly, “everyone please sit down.”

One student groaned, but the rest complied.

She turned back to the two boys. “You—we’ll talk later. Go back to your seats.”

They hesitated.

“Now,” she said more firmly, meeting their eyes.

Reluctantly, they obeyed.

Mariely finally picked up her things and walked to the front. The class watched her in silence.

She cleared her throat.

“First of all, I’ll be your adviser.”

Laughter erupted.

“Another teacher to make cry and quit!” a boy with dyed hair shouted.

“Think you can handle us?” someone smirked.

Her blood boiled—but she held her ground. She noticed around ten girls in class, one of them visibly shaken.

Breathing deeply, she continued, “I’m Ms. Faith Mariely Abad-Celestial. I’ll be your homeroom teacher starting today.”

More laughter.

“For now,” she went on, calm and steady, “I won’t give you any rules. You’re free to act however you like. But once I lay them down, you will follow them. Understood?”

“Let’s see how long she lasts,” someone muttered. “Who’s betting?”

Mariely smiled slightly. “Think twice before betting on me.”

She looked around the room.

“I’m about to start class,” she added. “And by the way—I’m a Filipino major.”

“Ugh. Filipino,” someone groaned.

Mariely inhaled slowly.

Let’s give this a try.