Chapter 9: A Last-Minute Meeting

Words : 1858 Updated : Nov 6th, 2025

The mood in the office turned icy. Cullen tried to smooth things over, but the tension was already stretched to the limit. He couldn't be bothered. As long as these young teachers had any sense, they wouldn't cause a scene on campus. "What's going on here?" A sharp voice barked from the doorway, cutting through the standoff. A middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and a bit of a paunch tapped the door twice with a rolled-up book. "Peter, it's nothing. We were just debating a teaching issue," Cullen said quickly when he saw it was Peter from Academic Affairs, eager to shut things down. Teachers had their own evaluations, too. If Academic Affairs caught wind of trouble, everyone in the office could kiss a chunk of their bonus goodbye. Aziel and Rayna got the message and clamped their mouths shut. And Jason hadn't been in a bad mood to begin with. "Watch it. I could hear you down the hall. If students hear you, they'll think you're arguing." Peter smacked the door again with the book. "Right, Mr. Dove wants every teacher in the main auditorium for a meeting at noon. Ten minutes from now. Don't be late." Cullen muttered under his breath. "Why did administrators love hijacking lunch breaks for meetings? They had all the time in the world and acted like the rest of the staff lived just as easily." Out loud, he said, "We'll be on time." After Peter left, Cullen gave the room a wry smile. "You all heard him. We all share this office; let's knock it off. Let's go." Rayna snorted, rolled her eyes at Jason, and headed out, heels clicking. Jason smiled and fell in step behind her. The auditorium was big enough to hold the entire faculty. Up at the lectern, a few teachers were assisting the principal in testing the microphone. It was Jason's first time at a meeting like this; in the past, in the Cultivation World, he'd been the one expounding to disciples or fellow cultivators. The role reversal gave the scene a strange flavor. He even took out a small notebook to jot down the principal's remarks. He could memorize a page at a glance, but a little ceremony felt right. Unfortunately, administrators in this world didn't prize efficiency. After half an hour, the principal was still droning on about school spirit and discipline, the same platitudes going in circles without getting to the point. Jason's disappointment settled like dust. Just as he was about to nod off, the principal suddenly said, "Next, we'll talk about the main topic of today's meeting." Jason snapped awake. Finally, the point. But he'd underestimated the man. Before getting down to business, the principal rolled out points one, two, and three of more fluff. It droned on like a lullaby, and Jason wanted nothing more than to find a pillow and drift away. "Of course, none of that is the focus. What I want to say is..." "You know it's not the point, so why say it at all?" Jason mused, speechless. If someone talked like this in the Cultivation World, he'd probably get himself killed. At last, after all that, the principal finally got to something that mattered. "As for Grade 12 Class 8, I assume you all know the situation. The original homeroom teacher, Aurora, for personal reasons, cannot take the class for the time being." A rustle of laughter and whispers spread below. "What's so funny?" teachers who didn't know the backstory asked their neighbors. "What personal reasons? Aurora eloped with Angelo, the PE teacher." "Eloped?" The word hardly sees daylight these days. Jason had read enough history to know "elopement" used to mean two people defying their families and running off together. He soon saw that the teachers had picked exactly the right word. "Yeah, eloped. Aurora and Angelo are almost fifty. Their kids are about to start college. They just up and ran off without a word." "The best part is, Angelo tricked his wife and daughter into going on a trip, then turned around, sold the house, and took off with Aurora." "Even better, they wrote a joint letter to Mr. Dove saying they wanted to go see the world. When Mr. Dove found that letter on his desk, the headache he had was massive." "I hear both families have been coming to school and making a scene every day." The gossip swelled; the more they talked, the more excited they got. Onstage, the principal's patience was wearing thin. Looking down at the buzzing crowd, Jared felt a wave of pain behind his eyes. "All right, all right, quiet down. Keep it professional." Jared kept a calm face and quieted the room. "You're not here to dissect Aurora's choices," he said, voice firm. "What we're really here to do is figure out what to do about Grade 12 Class 8." Silence fell. "Grade 12 is the most important year in high school. Students can't go without a homeroom teacher. Since Aurora left, Class 8 has had no one in charge. That can't continue." Jared cleared his throat. "And the parents of Class 8 are anxious about grades. They urgently want a homeroom teacher in place." That last line carried the real weight. As a Key High School, Anville High School had no shortage of parents with influence or deep pockets pushing their children through the doors. Officially, the school didn't accept such placements, but Anville was a big city. Some families wielded influence no one could refuse. Those students, predictably, tended to have difficult personalities and poor results. To protect the school's overall college acceptance rate, the usual solution was to gather them into one class, call it the Special Talent Class, and assign a disciplinarian to keep a lid on things. Whether they improved academically was a separate question; the first objective was order. Keep them from causing trouble for three years and call it a win. Grade 12 Class 8 was just such a class. Before she left, Aurora had been a capable teacher. She bolted anyway. With no homeroom teacher to keep them in line and a few kids from powerful families throwing their weight around, Class 8, already behind, slid even further downhill. In the meantime, Jared tried appointing other teachers as temporary homeroom teachers. The students treated them like servants. More than one temp came to him in tears, begging for reassignment. One finally said she was pregnant and went on leave. After that, Class 8 turned outright lawless. The teachers who had to teach them wanted the period to end even more than the students did. A few core subject teachers had already checked out and flatly refused to step into Class 8's classroom. But what could he do? The problem had to be solved. Meanwhile, several parents were leaning on him day after day. Jared had a splitting headache and wanted nothing more than to toss this hot potato to someone else as fast as possible. The staff knew the score. Heads dipped one by one, everyone praying Jared wouldn't call their name. "Any volunteers?" Jared coaxed. "Step up for this, and you get priority in this year's performance awards." No one answered. "Don't hold back. Speak freely," he went on. "If you've got good ideas, put them on the table." Still, no one spoke. In the big auditorium, it got so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

Chapter 9: A Last-Minute Meeting

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