The sun drooped low, casting a sleepy glow over the staffroom where Futaro and Itsuki lingered at their desks, surrounded by the day's debris of papers and textbooks. The air was heavy with the scent of dry-erase markers and lingering buzz from classes long dismissed. At the forefront of the disarray lay two copies of "The Dancing Girl" by Mori Ougai, their pages ruffled and marked with sticky notes.
"Look, Uesugi-Sensei," Itsuki pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Her voice echoed slightly across the empty staff room. She tapped on her copy of the text with a slender finger adorned with a simple band. "This book isn't just about the words on the page. It's about the culture, the emotions, the era. My approach could really help the students connect with the material."
"We've been through this already-I understand your enthusiasm, Nakano-sensei, but this won't work. You need a lecture plan. We shouldn't underestimate the value of a well-prepared lecture," Futaro exhaled loudly as if to drive the point home.
"No no, you don't get it," Itsuki implored, gesturing with open hands as if she were trying to shape her ideas into something visible. "An interactive lesson could spark something in them! A traditional lecture might just go in one ear and out the other- don't you remember being bored out of your mind in class when you were a student?"
Futaro raised an eyebrow at her.
"Okay, bad example," Itsuki pursed her lips. "What I'm trying to say is that things have changed! It's not just about teaching them, it's also about inspiring them."
Futaro leaned back, the plastic chair emitted an awful creak under his weight. They promised to replace our chairs last year, Futaro's mind wandered. It was clear the malaise and exhaustion of the day was getting to him. He watched Itsuki's animated face, her reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders like an autumnal waterfall. He sympathized with her. First-year teachers are all the same-even he was the same. Doe-eyed, ambitious, out to change the world and spearhead a new generation of scholars, professionals, and leaders. Kaisei didn't do much to help things either. It was praised as one of the top-performing schools in the nation. Students who came here were legacies. They came from prestige or otherwise highly educated families. Behind closed doors, there was always an unspoken rule that the staff shouldn't try to step out of the mold too much. In some ways, it was actively discouraged.
"We're trying to teach them," Futaro stressed, his voice laced with a tint of condescension. "We risk losing control of the class if we just play games all period long. They need structure, especially since we're still establishing our authority."
"Authority?" Itsuki countered, "We're not running a prison camp here!"
Futaro grunted and set his head down on the desk. Futaro closed his eyes for a moment, envisioning the chaos of a classroom untethered by his meticulous planning.
"Alright," Futaro said, his voice muffled by the desk and his arms. "We'll try it your way. But," he added quickly raising his head to meet her eyes, "if it starts to fall apart, we revert to lecture. Agreed?"
"Agreed!" Itsuki exclaimed, her voice ringing with triumph. "Thank you, Uesugi-kun. You won't regret this."
"Uesugi-sensei," Futaro corrected.
"Right, sorry," Itsuki shrunk back.
His though his mind was far from settled they quickly packed up their materials, itching to leave for the day. Their silence hung between them-a fragile truce. "Let's call it a day-see you tomorrow," he said quickly, already heading towards the door of the staff room. Before leaving, Itsuki spoke up with a polite bow. "Thank you for your hard work today, Uesugi-sensei," Itsuki said, to which Futaro responded with a callous 'hmph'
YOU ARE READING
Lesson Five
FanfictionSet nearly seven years after graduating from Asahiyama High School, Twenty-Five-Year-Old Futaro Uesugi finds himself on his third year teaching English at a Prestigious Tokyo High school named Kaisei High. It's a school where the students are expect...
