The students were making fun of the new teacher, trying to make her cry, but after a few minutes something unexpected happened 😢😲
Class 10B had not had a permanent literature teacher for a long time. One went on maternity leave, the other couldn’t take it after a month of work. When Anna Vyacheslavovna appeared – young, calm, neat – the kids looked at each other:
“Another one… She won’t stay long.”
The first lesson began immediately with a test of strength.
“Okay, open your notebooks…” the teacher began.
“We didn’t bring any! ” someone shouted from the back row. Laughter.
“Maybe you should introduce yourself first and then teach?” the other one said sarcastically.
“Okay. Anna Vyacheslavovna,” she said calmly. “And I…”
–Anna Viagralovna!– one of the girls shouted.
– The smell of perfume from the last century, and glasses like an old woman’s! – the laughter became louder.
Someone turned on the sound of a donkey braying on their phone. The class burst into laughter. While she was explaining something at the board, one of the students launched a paper airplane right at her back.
The teacher turned around.
“Maybe you’ll burst into tears and run away, like the previous one?” one of the students whispered, but specifically so that she could hear.
Someone yawned loudly and theatrically dropped a textbook on the floor. The others followed suit – now books were falling, chairs were creaking, and someone was already openly scrolling through TikTok on a tablet.
And then Anna Vyacheslavovna unexpectedly for everyone sat down on the edge of the table and quietly, even somehow casually, said… The whole class froze at her words…
— You know, I wasn’t always a teacher. Exactly a year ago, I worked in an oncology department for teenagers. There were people your age there. Some of them just dreamed of living to graduation. Everything was important to them: books, poetry, just communication.
— A guy, 17 years old. Diagnosis: sarcoma. We read “Eugene Onegin” out loud with him, because he himself could no longer speak.
The class slowed down a bit.
— He held the book even when his fingers were no longer obeying him. He told me: “It’s a pity that I didn’t like books before. Now I would give everything to just… sit in a regular lesson. Without an IV.”
The classroom became noticeably quieter.
“The girl from the other ward,” the teacher continued, “dreamed of going to school. Just sitting in a real classroom. You guys… You all live their dream, but you act like life owes you something.
– I will neither pity you nor persuade you. I know the price of this. And if you want to know it, continue.
She stood up, straightened the stack of notebooks on the table, adjusted her glasses, and opened her journal. The rest of the class was silent.
From that day on, no one called her anything else or joked behind her back.
