Hocus Pocus (rewritten)

Cha. 10. Modern Loneliness

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Jasper didn't have classes today, so he insisted on taking Chase alone to the hospital while you stayed at the apartment and got ready for your late-afternoon class.

It was weird, your hands were still shaky from all the reality-bending and you still couldn't get last night out of your head. The sight of Chase's desperate tears as he stumbled to the noose clinging to the front of your mind.

You slip on a hoodie and wriggle into some jeans, not bothering with accessories or blinging yourself up. You looked like a racoon regardless, with frizzed bed hair and purple rings around your eyes.

Taking one last glance towards the kitchen window, you see the curtains flap in the miserable afternoon breeze before heading out.

~time skip brought to you by a quick afternoon coffee~

The professor slumps over her work desk, hissing and cussing out students as they file in. A minute late is still late in her books. Her existence sits upon a throne of hate and spite, the inspiration and compassion for the crave to learn -juiced dry from the fat rolls and triple chin that made up the slob that made up Professor O'Sulavin.

"Three on the dot, ladies!" She snaps at a group of girls as they walk in, proceeding to give them a dirty look as they apologise and sit down.

She isn't one you can reason with.

You sat upright in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position for your arm. Wincing as another student gets scolded.

The days seemed to blur together into a massive heap of garbage nowadays. There's nothing interesting, fascinating or new in a lecture hall nowadays.

It's boring.

When you signed up to become a teacher, you didn't expect 4 years of gruelling slavery from a snarky overweight dinosaur. Nor did you expect the need for science to be threaded with your degree.

You try to remind yourself why you're putting up with "Miss privileged redhead" each day,  but the motivation next to dead.

It's disappointing, really.

You once wanted to inspire kids. To become someone they look up to... but now, you realise that the education system is an unstable scramble of workloads- that feeds into the inevitable and endless cycle of presenting youth with placebos; making them believe schooling can grant fantastic jobs, riches to buy polished skyscrapers that reach up into the clouds, a cozy mansion to look upon the city you call your playing field.

But it's not like that at all.

"LATE!" a snap from Professor O'Sulavin brings you back into reality, as some poor girl meets the wrath of Professor asshat.

This is probably why you were homeschooled...

-Did you know, that for your final mark in high school, the marker scans your 12 mark question for ten seconds?
Yeah, that question you wrote two pages on? The hand cramping, knees twitching and tiredness overdose?
All that stress, It scribbles down to ten measly seconds for a marker.-

With her tail between her legs and courage that challenges a mouse, the girl slinks to the back of the lecture hall and takes a seat a few spaces from you.

"Is everyone done being unorganised?" Professor O'Sulavin stands up from the desk and waddles over to the massive smartboard. Bringing up a diagram that made everyone mentally groan.

'Why am I here?'

She points to the board "This shows the past final marks for our institution here in Tullamore, it marks as average on the scale in the country... But you are smart students, so I expect high 80's from every single one of you."