The state I'm in COMPLETED

Life

"Please be seated," I said as I walked into the lecture hall.

A wave of murmurs and shuffling filled the air before they finally settled. I had been teaching at the university for ten years now, and while my career had given me an impressive résumé, my greatest joy had been teaching high school. That was where I had truly found my passion—where I had learned to connect with students in a way that mattered.

Teenagers were an unpredictable, chaotic, and utterly brilliant force of nature, and over the years, I had come to understand them in a way that made my classes sought after. Every year, I had more students than available spots, and every year, I worked hard to make literature something they could love, not just something they were forced to learn. My methods were often labelled unconventional, but they worked. If writing fanfiction got them to read, I would do it. If discussing love, betrayal, and revenge in Shakespeare through the lens of a Netflix show helped them engage, I embraced it.

Rose had taken a teaching job at a high school across town. She had a beautiful family now, a husband who adored her, and two kids who kept her on her toes. Twice a week, after she put them to bed, we'd meet for coffee. That was the only time she allowed herself to curse freely, and she did so with great enthusiasm.

As I scanned the classroom, I recognized a few familiar faces from past semesters. Others were new, fresh-eyed and hesitant, still uncertain about what to expect from me. I smiled at them all.

"Welcome back to school, guys!" I faked enthusiasm, fully aware that most of them would rather be anywhere but here.

A chorus of groans and laughter erupted.

"School sucks!"
"I hate my life!"
"FML!" someone muttered from the back, earning a round of chuckles.

"Ah, I see some of you are just bursting with enthusiasm," I teased.

"To work on you, maybe," someone in the second row muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

I ignored it, not surprised by the attempt at flirting. It happened every year—some students started off testing boundaries before eventually falling in line.

"As I was saying," I continued, "I want to get to know all of you individually. Some of you I already know—yes, John, I mean you, sit down now."

John, the class clown, stood up dramatically, pointing at himself in mock surprise, earning a round of applause.

"Now, I know some of you struggle with English, but I promise you this class won't just be about boring textbooks and essays. We're going to make things interesting. You'll create your own advertisements, write lyrics, analyse films—no poems, I know how much you all love those," I added with a smirk.

A few groans and protests followed, but overall, the class seemed excited.

"We'll also go on field trips—"

That was it. The room erupted.

"Whoooo!"
"Yes!"
"Field trips? You're officially my favourite teacher."

"Calm down, calm down," I laughed, motioning for them to settle.

"We also need to schedule one-on-one meetings in my office—"

"You want to meet with me, huh?" The same voice from earlier interrupted. "You can cut the line for me, Miss, if you play your cards right."

Laughter rippled through the classroom, but this time, I turned toward the voice, intrigued.

"Alright, you've got my attention now. Stand up."