“Before we start the discussion, I would just like to give a special mention to the first group to submit their thesis.”

I look to my students and some—who were included in that group—were smiling as I speak through the microphone. “Special mention because a section on one of your chapters was just copied from an original basis.” I finish my whole sentence and everyone grew silent. “S-sir, wait.” One of the group’s member, Mr. Seo raises his hand. “Sir, it wasn’t copied we—“I know because I read a lot be it books or online. You kids can’t fool me.” I cut him off sternly.

I do not think one in the whole teaching industry has ever allowed fraud especially in projects and thesis like this.

“B-but sir, how can you assume it right away, we worked on it on our own and—“Or you want me to show the proof? In this class, do you want me to show it to everyone? I am not afraid to humiliate your group right here, right now. You can call your parents if you have a complain, it’s your loss I am telling you.” I cut him off and the boy looked down. “S-sir, will you. . . will you fail us? Can you give us another chance? Sir, we didn’t know it. We worked separately.” Another one, Miss Na raises her hand and stands up. “I am still to decide about that. You know how much I dislike such action and I am sure no teacher, no person does. Go to the office later, we will talk privately. We need to go on with the lesson, you know that we need to rush, I just got done with the research and I am afraid you missed some important lessons from the substitute teacher.” I tell and turn to my laptop placed on my table.

Everyone grows silent.

“On our last period, we stopped at the Acquired and inherited mutations. So we shall move on to that and I would like to hear some words from you. Please give a brief summary before we discuss it again.” I speak and look at all of them. They just all looked down to their thick books with their clueless faces. “Look at you, guys.” I sigh and fold my arms. “And I remember last semester you were all complaining of why am I still your teacher in a much harder subject this time and say you barely pass. Why do you think it happens?” I ask.

This is my everyday – they barely talk back.

Well. . . they are too scared of me. I know that for a fact.

“S-sir. . . actually. . . this subject is one of the minors and so—“So it’s not supposed to be hard, is it? Does it work like that? What? You’ll say I act as if I teach a major subject? Every subject is major, every subject counts in to your future so don’t give me those blank, clueless faces. Who will summarize? If no one does, take out a piece of paper we’ll have a quiz in the previous lesson.” I tell.

Their heads all shoot up, their eyes bulging out in surprise.

They begin having their pleading faces that I always see.

“How can you arrive at this stage of your course still fearing simple quizzes? Tell me, who even does advance reading here?” I ask. Again, no one speaks. I am so disappointed. I don’t understand why they have such good relationships with the other professors—and I mean those annoying playful talkative professors who barely teach and only chit-chat in class—while I who work diligently get such treatment?

“No one? I’ve been your professor for almost three years now, you know me well. You know how I strongly suggest advance reading because it’s very important to—“ I stop speaking when I realize their eyes were all at the door, some were pointing at it. “What—“I turn my head. To my surprise, I see my fiancée’s face right on the gl of the door peeking like a puppy there.

She waves a hand at me while smiling.

The smile that was absent for quite some time.

But no, it isn’t the case right now.

She did text me earlier that she will visit but not at my class period.

She is so stubborn.

I wave a hand but in a different way, signaling her to go. I curl my brows to show her that I do not like this situation and continue shooing her away. Of all times, why in the middle of my scolding? She points down while grinning at me. My students begin screaming as if they are watching a hit drama which I don’t understand. I only give them a brief look before giving my attention back to my stubborn fiancée. “Yah!” I hear her faint voice from outside.

My students scream again, they were cheering for who knows what.

Good Lord, she won’t stop.

Giving in, I walk down the low stage and went to the door. I didn’t open it just yet and just look straight at her, the glass door hole separating us. “Open this.” She mouths back while giving a persuading nod. Then she puts a hand up. “I will count.” She then tells which made ma groan.

In the end, I did not have a choice but to let her in and finally make my students be aware of me getting married.

At the same time, Iseul brought along cupcakes for all of them which to be fairly honest, I fou