Inktober 2022

I looked up to see the clock on the wall hit 7:44 as I finally finished correcting the last of my student’s research papers. The sun had already set outside and my exhaustion was growing, so I quickly packed up my things into my rolling bag, stacked up a stray chair and headed for the door. Once I had locked up my classroom, I turned into the empty hallway and headed for the stairs. My bag made dull rolling sounds while I uttered a muffled complaint. Somedays, if not most days, I really wish that teachers could be paid overtime, and more in general really.

Just as I turned around a corner leading to the stairs, I saw a person crouched down besides the stairwell. I immediately recognized the boy as one of my homeroom students; Tristan. He looked up at me and smiled, eyes narrowing.

« You stay at school for quite a while Ms. Teacher. » Tristan greeted me, not calling me by name as usual.

« And so do you apparently. » I was way too tired for this. « You’re not supposed to be here Tristan. »

The student stood up and avoided my question, asking about whether I had corrected his essay yet.

Tristan is a bit of a strange kid I must say. He’s quite a charming boy appearance wise, pretty golden locks and blue eyes, puberty somehow passing smoothly without the pimples or the usually very awkward voice change. His manners are good as well, always addressing the teachers nicely and with a smile, although it did seem a little strained to me at times.

Amongst the other kids however, he’s in a bit of a weird spot. His classmates seem to implicitly avoid him, while some other teachers had even received complaints from Tristan’s classmates about how he had said strange things and threats, which he denied whenever he was asked by the vice-principal. After those few incidents, Tristan wasn’t punished or anything and was dismissed after a short scolding, what he had said was mostly kept secret by the teachers involved. I hadn’t had students express their concerns about him to me yet, which I’m not exactly sure how I feel about.

« Ms Teacher? » I snapped out of my thoughts at being called and saw Tristan’s unreadable eyes staring into my tired ones. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

« How are you even still at school? » I asked, letting down the handle bar of my bag so I could pick it up for the trip down the stairs.

At that moment, the boy beside me suddenly used his foot to kick at my bag, sending it tumbling down the long flight of stairs.

« What on earth are you doing?! » Outraged, I raised my voice, but Tristan looked calmly at the now opened bag and then slowly at me.

« Oops. That was an accident. Sorry about that Miss. » He did that strained smile again.

« Kicking a teacher’s bag down the stairs isn’t something you do by accident and that is unacceptable behaviour! You’re coming down to the office with me. Let’s see if the director is still in to deal with you! »

I stepped towards the stairs, wanting to check on my computer that was inside my bag. « You follow me— »

Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands give me a firm push from behind and I tipped forwards, my feet leaving the floor. I looked back to see Tristan with his arms outstretched from the act and his mouth quirked up at the corners. Right before he left my quickly tipping field of view, I watched his lips mouth out two sarcastic syllables:

« Uh-Oh. »