Stalker's Tango

2: Children Have Staring Problems

【ωαяиιиg】: Excessive Swearing, Excessive use of the word "fuck(ing)", Highschoolers

sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴs ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄᴏɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ.

♪───Ｏ(✿◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*Ｏ────♪

"Hello, I am your Writing Teacher, [L/n]. Do not call me Miss or Ms. [L/n], otherwise I'll make you stand in the corner for a timeout. I am not joking."

You lean against the whiteboard with a stack of paper in your hands, looking at the new gaggle of students in the room. It's a brand new semester of the school year in January; five months you've been teaching this school. Anyway, a new semester means new faces you'll have to memorize.

You're not too bummed out about it, though. Your last semester was absolutely ass, the kids loved you and would not leave you alone. You're hoping with these new bunch, they'll tolerate you a normal amount.

"Let's get one thing straight, I am not. And, I am not a nice person. If I hurt your feelings, then I'm sorry to say, but I really do not care."

You step forward to the top left desk and drop the stack of papers on it.

"Take one, and pass it down," You instruct, stepping back and crossing your arms, "This is your syllabus. Read through it and turn it in tomorrow. That's your only homework I'll be giving you for this year."

You stretch your arms above your head and walk down the middle when the desks are separated the most.

"I won't be giving you homework 'cause homework is fucking stupid. If you don't finish your class work in time, you have by the end of the day to turn it in before it turns into homework."

You stop at your desk and pick up a stack of smaller paper before returning to the front of the class.

"Your assignment for today is to fill this paper out, then hand it in to me. Uh, you guys can talk to each other and get to know each other if you want..." You drop the stack of papers on the same desk as before, "Take one and pass it down. If you guys get too loud, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed."

In the middle of the room, a boy raises his hand. Ugh, he looks snobbish already.

"Uh, Ms-" He cuts himself off when you glare at him, "[L-L/n], I have two questions."

You look at him judgmentally, "How do you already have two questions? What do you need to ask about? The day hasn't even started yet. We didn't do jack shit."

The majority of the class laughs, but that's what you dreaded. You don't want them to think you're funny.

"Uh, well, m-my first question is... is it okay for you to swear so much?"

You roll your eyes, "It's one the syllabus."

Right as you said that, the students skim through the paper, flipping it over if they don't find what you're talking about.

"This is a Creative Writing class. We're gonna be expressing ourselves the way we do it best. That includes swearing," You explain, slowly making your way back to your desk, "As long as you don't cuss at me, cuss me out, or cuss each other out, then I don't care what you. Don't be fucking jerks. And don't make me take this privilege away."

The students begin whispering amongst each other. Noticeably, the boys were more excited about that because all men are degenerates no matter what.

Except for John Mulaney.