Chapter 4 - The Troublemaker

“Okay, class, you’re dismissed.”

I headed straight to the faculty room to drop off my instructional materials before joining my friends at the cafeteria. Around the table sat Ritchelle, Vhina, and Alyssa. Ritchelle always handled getting our reserved food early since her classes ended by lunchtime. She only taught in the mornings.

A month had already passed since my fight with Molly.

“Hey, why is the you so late to sits here by the us?” Ritchelle teased just as I settled into my seat.

“Me is the stressed by the students, but I scolded them, which make me the stresser,” I replied, playing along with the joke.

Alyssa, delicately slicing the egg white from her sunny-side-up to give to Veruca later, rolled her eyes. As an English teacher, our exaggerated broken grammar visibly annoyed her. “Wow. I’m amazed you two can even understand each other,” she muttered.

“Join we. We is the teaches you how to says we is the language,” Ritchelle offered with a grin.

“Also, you is the one who tolds us there’s no wrong English because of world Englishes, remembers?” I added. “Even Vi cans surely recalls.”

“You know what? Your English is the only one that’s not acceptable,” Alyssa huffed. “Seriously, stop. It’s making me cringe.”

“Guys, listen first. I have something to tell you,” Vhina interrupted. Then, turning to me, she added, “And Elly, for the last time, my name has an H. It’s ‘Vih-na.’ Say it right. It matters.”

“As if it does,” I muttered.

Vhina ignored me and launched into a story about a hard-headed student who had been making side comments in class, quietly shaming her. Though she brushed it off as a "small thing," those small things piled up. Eventually, it wore on her enough to trigger a mental breakdown—one she hid from almost everyone. Everyone except me. Her pride wouldn't allow her to be pitied by the others.

We talked for a while longer, shifting between venting frustrations about disrespectful students and sharing funny teaching moments. Laughter echoed between bites of food.

Josh sat alone at the adjacent table, earphones in, lazily poking at his food. His hair was its usual unkempt mess, and his uniform, unsurprisingly, was unironed. I caught him flicking his lips with his fingers in that weird way he sometimes did—like a half-asleep toddler. What was he even doing?

Suddenly, I remembered something.

“Hey, guys, I almost forgot! You know Finlay, right?” I whispered.

“Yes, why? Did he pull off something big again?” Ritchelle exaggerated the word big, dramatically pouting her lips.

“Not just big but interesting,” I said, lowering my voice. “During my class, he kept insisting that lightning was the sound, and thunder was the flash. I corrected him, but he refused to believe me! He even stood up in front of the class and started lecturing about it. I mean, how do you even argue about something so basic? It’s a fact!”

I stifled a laugh but continued.

“He kept going until he got tired of explaining and sat back down. I was so close to laughing, but his arrogance ruined it. So, I ended up scolding him and calling his mom for a conference.”

“Oof, bold move,” Alyssa commented. “Calling a parent for a meeting? That’s every teacher’s worst nightmare. You of all people should know after what happened during your first year.”

I flinched a bit at the memory. My first year teaching had been rough, especially after a parent complained about my teaching style. The way they spoke to me made me cry. They were so rude. I was looked down. No one outside my family had ever made me feel like that.

“You know what?” Vhina chimed in. “I think this is Josh’s fault. He’s Finlay’s adviser. If he would just discipline him properly, we wouldn’t be dealing with this. Hey, Josh!” she called out.

Josh blinked, tugging out an earphone. “Huh?”

“Come here for a sec.”

Josh dropped his empty plate into the dish bin before approaching. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Finlay,” Vhina said, arms crossed. “He’s been acting up again. Could you talk to him? He’s starting to disrupt other classes, too.”

Josh sighed, rubbing his neck. “Oh… yeah, sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“Not just talk, Josh. Make sure he gets it this time.”

“I will. I’m really sorry about that.”

Sensing the tension, I decided to lighten the mood.

“And by the way,” I added playfully. “We’ve noticed you’ve been eating alone lately. Still adjusting to life on our floor, huh? It’s cool, though. If you’ve got questions—or even problems—feel free to ask. We might be newbies, but we’ve figured out how things work here. Mostly.”

I leaned closer and whispered, “And honestly? It’s okay if you don’t pass your lesson plans on time… as long as you finish them before the school year ends.”

For the first time in a while, Josh cracked a smile. Not just a polite one—a genuine, amused grin. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he chuckled.

It felt… different.

In a good way.

“Yes, yes. Thank you very much.” Josh wiped his eyes—tears barely noticeable but there. He exhaled a not-so-obvious but apparent-enough sigh of relief. “I actually wanted to start a conversation with you all. You know, to introduce myself properly. I might be of a different gender, but I assure you, I can hold a decent conversation with women.”

I blinked. Of a different gender? What a choice of words.

I glanced around the table, trying to gauge my friends’ reactions.

“Well, we might have a problem talking with you in particular,” Vhina probably thought, judging by her raised brow.

“Wow, he sure knows how to talk casually,” Ritchelle’s slight nod seemed to say.

“Of a different gender?” Alyssa would surely comment later, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Thank God. I thought he was a scary one,” I muttered under my breath.

Josh’s head snapped toward me. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

I froze. “Nope! I… We just want to welcome you here!”

I jumped up with exaggerated enthusiasm, flinging my arms wide—so wide I accidentally smacked both Alyssa and Vhina on their shoulders.

“Hey!” Alyssa winced, rubbing her shoulder.

Another awkward silence settled over us.

Before it could stretch too long, a teacher approached our table, carrying a gray and black Asus laptop. It was teacher Mary, the instructional supervisor. The moment we noticed her, we all straightened in our seats and chorused, “Good afternoon, cher!”

Teacher Mary, ever composed, nodded and addressed me directly. “Teacher Jelly, just a quick reminder. You have a meeting with Mrs. Garcia at three. She already confirmed. Feel free to dismiss your students earlier since they won’t have their Digital class during the last period.”

Her words were perfectly enunciated, every syllable crisp and authoritative—the kind of tone you couldn’t argue with.

A strange, barely audible version of my voice escaped my throat. “Yes, cher, I’ll be there.”

“Very good.” She glanced around the table. “Teachers, it’s five to one. Better prepare for your afternoon classes now.”

Then, in a rare show of warmth, she winked and smiled before gracefully walking away toward the elevator, heels clicking against the floor. Her waist-length, freshly rebonded hair swayed elegantly with her stride. For someone her age, she carried herself with the confidence of someone far above a regular teacher’s rank.

Once she was gone, we all exhaled almost in unison.

“Was it just me, or did she actually… smile?” Ritchelle whispered.

“She winked. Winked, Ritchelle,” Alyssa emphasized.

“I don’t know whether to feel honored or terrified,” I muttered.

Lunch had officially ended. One by one, we picked up our things and headed back to our respective classrooms.

As I turned the corner toward mine, I caught sight of Josh lingering by the faculty room door. He let out a long, lazy sigh, as if already exhausted by the thought of the afternoon ahead.

*****

I was already in the guidance office on the third floor, waiting for Finlay’s mother. My fingers fidgeted restlessly with the nearly-empty G-Tech pen Molly had gifted me last Christmas break. I had teased her back then, calling it a “common, last-minute present,” but truth be told, I had appreciated the thoughtfulness more than I let on. The pen was nearly out of ink now, just like my patience. The second hand of the wall clock above the door clicked louder with every sweep, marking nearly thirty minutes of waiting—time slipping away like the fading streak of blue from my pen.

School policy allowed parent-teacher meetings no longer than thirty minutes to avoid cutting into class time. Yet dismissal had already passed, and I could spare a few more minutes for this particular conversation. Finlay’s behavior warranted attention.

Finally, just as the long hand ticked over the ten, the door burst open. Mrs. Garcia entered, slightly breathless.

“I apologize for being late, teacher. The traffic was terrible,” she said between quick, shallow breaths as I offered her a glass of water.

“It’s alright, ma’am. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” I gestured toward the white plastic monobloc chair across from me, keeping my tone professional with a polite, practiced smile.

Mrs. Garcia lowered herself into the seat with a measured grace, her clashing appearance catching my eye. A set of colorful bangles clinked as she adjusted her handbag, which was an aquamarine Lacoste that stood out against her glittering purple dress. She wore pearl earrings, which felt oddly mismatched with her out-of-style, boyish haircut. Her makeup was thick, layered so heavily that it seemed prepared for a night out rather than a school meeting. If not for her designer heels and brand-name accessories, I might have assumed she was heading straight to a party.

She took a sip from the glass before fixing her gaze on me, her posture shifting. The polite smile she had worn earlier faded, replaced by a businesslike seriousness.

“Alright, teacher. Let’s get straight to the point. You called me here regarding an important matter about my son. I expect you to fill me in directly—no beating around the bush.”

Her words were crisp and clipped. It was so starkly different from the breathless woman who had just arrived moments ago.

Caught off-guard by her sudden shift, I straightened in my seat and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for coming in. The reason I requested this meeting is because of an incident earlier during my Science class. You may already be aware that Finlay has a tendency to interrupt discussions, often challenging the lesson content rather boldly. While I appreciate his confidence, the way he handled himself today was disruptive and disrespectful—not just toward me but in front of his classmates as well.”

Mrs. Garcia’s brows knit slightly, but she said nothing. So, I continued.

“We were discussing the difference between lightning and thunder. Finlay had mixed up the definitions and insisted, quite stubbornly, that lightning was the sound while thunder was the flash. Despite my attempts to clarify the facts, he persisted, even standing in front of the class to argue his point. His classmates were visibly uncomfortable. I wanted to bring this to your attention because such behavior, if left unchecked, could affect both his academic performance and his moral conduct. My hope is that you can help reinforce these lessons at home.”

I softened my voice, leaning forward just slightly. “I’m not asking you to discipline him harshly—just to remind him that there’s value in accepting when we’re wrong.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded slowly, her bangles jingling as she crossed her arms. Then, her lips pursed. “I understand, teacher. But let me ask you something. Did you explain it thoroughly? Perhaps my son was simply confused. Maybe he needed you to clarify it more carefully.”

I blinked, taken aback. “I did explain it multiple times, ma’am. The issue wasn’t a lack of clarity but rather his reluctance to accept correction. His pride seemed to get in the way, and I believe he didn’t want to appear foolish in front of his classmates.”

Mrs. Garcia’s gaze narrowed. “Wait. Are you saying my son is foolish?”

“No, no, not at all, ma’am. What I’m saying is he didn’t want to seem foolish, which is very different.”

Her expression tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, I worried she might storm out. Then, her face shifted, curiosity replacing the defensiveness.

“Teacher… Do you think it could be because he likes someone in class?”

That was not where I expected this to go. “Well… It’s possible. Some of us have noticed he seems particularly conscious around a certain student, though we’re not certain. But that’s hardly relevant here—”

“Of course, it’s relevant!” Mrs. Garcia interrupted, leaning forward with sudden energy. “That’s why he was so persistent, don’t you see? He wasn’t trying to prove a point—he was trying to impress her! Oh, my dear Finlay… It all makes sense now.”

She actually seemed amused.

I cleared my throat. “Ma’am, regardless of his motivations, the point remains that his behavior was disruptive. And I’d appreciate your help in guiding him—”

She raised a hand, cutting me off gently. “No need to worry, Teacher. I understand now. I’ll handle this. Thank you for being so patient with him.”

Her smile, now genuine and warm, was completely at odds with her earlier stern demeanor. She extended her hand across the desk. I hesitated for a heartbeat before shaking it, still uncertain if we had truly resolved anything or if she had just brushed the issue aside in her excitement over Finlay’s “crush.”

After she left, I returned to the faculty room where teacher Mary waited in my chair, her arms crossed and brow raised expectantly.

“Well?” she asked, scanning my face for clues.

“It went… fine,” I replied, though my voice betrayed the lingering confusion I felt.

Teacher Mary’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you sure? We need her on good terms. She’s sponsoring the retreat ride. And if this meeting didn’t go well, we’ll have another problem on our hands.”

I felt my body tense at that revelation. If only I’d known earlier…

Teacher Mary, observant as ever, caught my hesitation. “It didn’t go well, did it?”

I exhaled, finally surrendering the truth. “I’m not sure. She seemed more interested in the idea of Finlay having a crush than his actual behavior. She left smiling, but… It felt odd. Like the issue wasn’t fully addressed.”

Teacher Mary sighed, standing. “I’ll arrange another meeting with her tomorrow, then. I’ll handle it personally this time. You’ll be there, too, just to clarify details along with his adviser. Inform Josh, please.”

I nodded, already dreading the conversation with Josh.

*****

The next day arrived sooner than expected. I found Josh first thing in the morning to inform him about the follow-up meeting scheduled for the afternoon. He listened intently, his brow furrowing deeper with each detail I shared about how the conversation with Mrs. Garcia had unfolded.

“I’m sorry for not handling Finlay’s behavior more seriously,” he said with a sigh, his voice low with guilt. “As his adviser, I should have been the one talking to his parents from the beginning.”

I shook my head gently, offering a small, reassuring smile. “It’s alright, Josh. We can’t change how things turned out yesterday. What matters now is that we help Finlay understand his mistakes and guide him to improve on his own terms. Just make sure you’re on time for the meeting this afternoon, okay?”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I will be. Thanks, Jelly.”

His smile returned, though it carried a hint of lingering tension, before he excused himself and headed toward the cafeteria. Through the window, I saw him joining Veruca, Arjun, and Blanch, who were already seated, laughing about something over plates of pancit canton and fried chicken.

The afternoon meeting felt heavier as I walked alongside Josh toward the guidance office. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, almost in rhythm with my own heartbeat. Teacher Mary was already there, seated behind the polished mahogany desk. She had an air of quiet authority, her posture perfect, hands folded neatly atop the open leather-bound planner she always carried.

She wore the Tuesday uniform with a sense of formality that matched her demeanor: a black blazer over a fuchsia blouse, paired with pressed khaki pants. A silver watch peeked from her sleeve as she adjusted a document. She gave both of us a calm, measured glance when we entered.

“Good afternoon, cher,” I greeted softly, my voice slightly restrained as Josh and I settled onto the monobloc chairs facing her desk.

Josh nodded as well. “Good afternoon, teacher Mary.”

Before either of us could speak further, Mrs. Garcia arrived.

The clacking of her heels announced her entrance before she did. Today, she looked… different. She wore something more polished yet minimalistic. She had a plain white, knee-length cocktail dress, something one might wear to a modest wedding reception. The extravagant accessories she sported the day before were gone. No pearl earrings, no loud bangles, not even a necklace. Her hair was pinned back neatly, and her face bore only the lightest touch of makeup.

Something else was different to her posture. She was composed—almost too composed. She walked in with a smile, but her eyes… They weren’t just scanning the room. They were studying teacher Mary, lingering on her with a sharpness that felt oddly analytical.

“I made sure not to be late this time,” Mrs. Garcia said, winking at me in a way that seemed playful but measured. She eased herself into one of the monobloc chairs, sitting straighter than before, her hands folded in her lap as if mirroring teacher Mary’s composed stance.

Her overly bright demeanor made me feel slightly less anxious.

Teacher Mary, however, remained as professional as ever, acknowledging Mrs. Garcia’s entrance with a polite nod before cutting straight to business.

“I hope we’re not interfering with your other commitments today, Mrs. Garcia,” she began, her voice cool but polite. “It’s important we discuss Finlay’s behavior and performance in class. His recent actions, I’m afraid, have been concerning—disruptive, even. What he’s displayed recently is the kind of conduct we would typically expect from a child at risk of delinquency, not from a student with his potential.”

The words, though delivered with Mary’s signature poise, landed heavily.

Mrs. Garcia's painted smile faltered but just for a heartbeat. She inhaled, then nodded, the cheerful facade softening into something more serious.

“Yes, of course. I’m fully aware. I’ve already spoken with teacher Jelly about this yesterday.” She turned her gaze toward me, her expression gentler. “And I owe you an apology, teacher, for my behavior yesterday. I wasn’t… at my best. I let my emotions get the better of me. Please forgive me if I came across as dismissive or overly defensive.”

I blinked, surprised by the shift in her tone. Yesterday, she had seemed more concerned about Finlay’s crush than his behavior. But today, she sounded genuine. Remorseful, even.

“There’s nothing to forgive, ma’am,” I replied, meeting her gaze with a polite nod. “It’s natural for a loving mother to be concerned for her child. I understand you were only trying to protect him. If anything, I apologize as well. I may have been too direct with my words yesterday, and I never intended to upset you.”

Even as I spoke, my stomach knotted slightly. Something still felt… off. She was calmer, yes, but the way she kept glancing toward teacher Mary… It was as if she was holding back and measuring her.

She clasped her hands together on her lap and nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

Teacher Mary cleared her throat gently, reclaiming control of the conversation.

“Let’s focus on what’s important now,” she said. “Mrs. Garcia, we’re not here to criticize your son personally. Our goal is to ensure he grows academically and emotionally. Finlay is a bright boy, but his recent behavior, especially his unwillingness to accept correction, could hinder that growth. What we’re asking for is your support in helping us guide him toward a more positive attitude in the classroom.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded again, slower this time, as though carefully considering each word.

“Of course. I only want what’s best for my son,” she said. Then, with a small, tight smile, she added, “And I’m sure we all want that.”

We all nodded in agreement. 

“Now, Mrs. Garcia,” teacher Mary said, her voice steady but firm, “we won’t keep this meeting any longer than necessary. I understand you have other important matters to attend to. However, we must make it clear—should Finlay commit another act of grave misconduct, we will have no choice but to issue his final written warning. This would also require his participation in the community immersion program every Saturday.”

Mrs. Garcia blinked, her face momentarily blank before she forced a polite nod. “Yes, yes. I understand, teacher Mary. I’ll make sure to speak with him firmly at home. Some scoldings should help straighten him out.”

She rose abruptly from her chair, smoothing the front of her white dress with a swift motion. I noticed how her left hand shot forward for a handshake rather than her right, the same way she had done the day before. A sign of habit, or was she simply in a hurry—again?

We exchanged polite farewells, but as Mrs. Garcia turned toward the door, she suddenly paused, her hand resting lightly on the metal frame.

“Ah, teacher Mary,” she added, turning back with a look of mild remembrance, “the barge will be ready late Friday evening. Around nine or ten. I’ll email the specifics once I’m home. The captain mentioned there might be a few other passengers on board. I trust that won’t be an issue with the school?”

At this, teacher Mary’s face noticeably softened, her professional demeanor giving way to a relieved smile.

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you,” she said, nodding. “The school greatly appreciates your support for the student council's activities. It will be a tremendous help for the retreat. And a few passengers may offer some benefits for the students as well.”

I felt my own shoulders loosen, the tension finally slipping away as I exhaled a quiet breath. “Thank God” was all I could think. At least, the sponsorship was secure.

Mrs. Garcia returned the smile. “Just remember your promise. I expect Finlay to be part of the retreat—not just attending but observing how the council operates. I’m hoping this experience will give him a chance to reflect and courage to join next school year.”

“Absolutely, Mrs. Garcia. I couldn’t agree more. This could be an excellent opportunity for personal growth. We’ll do our best to guide him through it.”

Mrs. Garcia seemed satisfied with that response. She smiled again, but I could have sworn it didn’t reach her eyes this time. I shook my head subtly, brushing off the uneasy feeling building in my chest. Perhaps I was reading too much into things.

“Um, madam—”

The voice came from Josh’s corner of the room. I had almost forgotten he was still with us, sitting quietly, as if trying to blend into the wall behind him.

Mrs. Garcia turned, her expression shifting again but not back to the polite warmth she had shown teacher Mary. This smile was thinner.

“Yes?”

Josh sat up straighter, adjusting his collar as he cleared his throat. His voice wavered slightly but stayed sincere. “I’m Finlay’s adviser. I just… I wanted to clarify that he’s not constantly misbehaving in class. In fact, in my experience, he’s generally well-behaved. Some of his actions—while occasionally disruptive—are more tolerable than they might appear.”

There was a beat of silence.

My stomach knotted. I caught teacher Mary exchanging a glance with me, her lips pressing into a firm line.

Mrs. Garcia’s polite smile curved downward at the edges. Her eyebrows arched ever so slightly, and for the first time, a flicker of annoyance showed behind her carefully composed mask.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Adviser,” she said coolly, her voice lacking the earlier charm. “I’ll be sure to let Finlay know that you’ve… complimented him.”

Josh nodded, oblivious to the shift in her tone. “Yes, please do.”

With that, Mrs. Garcia turned and left the room, the sharp click of her heels echoing as she disappeared down the hallway.

The door hadn’t even fully closed before I exhaled sharply, the tension in my chest finally breaking free. I turned toward Josh, shaking my head with a wry smile. I patted his shoulder. “That’s it, Josh. Put some energy into it next time, though. Maybe sound a bit less like you’re defending him at a trial.”

He blinked, clearly still confused. “What? I was just being honest!”

Teacher Mary, who remained quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. Her voice was calm but tinged with the same unease I had been feeling earlier. “We’re not here to make Mrs. Garcia comfortable, Josh. We’re here to ensure accountability. She needs to understand that we’re serious about Finlay’s behavior.”

Josh’s brows furrowed slightly. “I know. I just thought… If we keep things too harsh, she might feel cornered.”

Teacher Mary exchanged another glance with me before shaking her head. “She’s not as fragile as you think. And she’s not here for us. She’s here for her son. Remember that.”

As the conversation settled into silence, I found my mind drifting back to Mrs. Garcia’s behavior—the strange intensity of her stares and the way her mood shifted so easily. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that we hadn’t seen the last of her yet.

Or the whole truth behind Finlay's behavior.