The Teacher

The Teacher walked into class,eyes tinged with an apologetic nature to it due to it's tardiness.

As the Teacher entered the cutely-decorated classroom,excited chatter breaks out.From those who shouted their hellos,to those that started chattering together in a cacophony of noises not unfamiliar to the Teacher,to those that shouted 'get OUT!'. the Teacher quickly hushes them down,slinged his bag off and said,"Please do your work."

However this was the last thing they wanted to do.Some pulled out their homework and tackled them in a slightly lacakadaisical manner,but it didn't matter to the Teacher-at least they were doing something.

The other students seemed utterly enamoured with the imaginary sick bay conjured for children one half of their ages,happily picking up the bottles of medicine they were most excited about- "vomit" and "diarrhoea" and presenting them to the teacher,who was also offered with a plastic slab of bread.

The Teacher tried in vain to coax them back to their homework.Many a time he tried to settle them down,to make them do their homework,but failed.

The Teacher looked at his watch.It was going to be a short period.He had something to rush off for.A chance to free these kids and let them have a breather,although evidently they didn't need one as seen from the amount of work done.

After about 45 minutes of struggling with the cacophony,he announces, "OK,go for your break." Chairs creaked painfully as immediately all of them rushed for the door,not before shouting happy goodbyes.

After the kids have left,the Teacher approached the table to see the work they have done.He shook his head in disappointment,as he espied work with answers with more randomness than 4-D.His eyes positively gleam with excitement,and his heart is warmed when he sees kids that actually tried the homework,or at least changed the random answers to one of their own working. it was OK that they had so many mistakes.It was the effort that was counted,as he was taught.

The Teacher sank back into his seat,shaking his head slightly.Was he doing the right thing? He realized with growing dread that these kids have already given up on themselves.These kids,so full of innocence and purity beyond the troubled fronts,actually laugh with an amazing roar when they see silly words like 'anus'.These kids that could try all their best to rile him up,but actually meant nothing,for children all want to be good children,and it was just their method of having fun.

However doubts still lingered in the Teacher.He wanted them to do well,as he was a learned person,and hoped that some day some would rise up to a level of aptitude,a level of intelligence,that mirrored himself.He hoped they would have a talent that enabled them a life in society in future.as a result,he does not force them to their desks in a desperate plea for them to do homework,as many adults have tried; he tries to let them have fun,while recognizing the importance of homework.

He is doing a work that defied society and the education system,but he feels that homework should not be forced on children that are already defeated inside,and he knows forcing them would spoil a childhood that was already not ideal-one that needed more happiness and fun.So what,if they could not do homework.

Sadly,the Teacher picked up a whiteboard marker,the only marker to be found in a classroom./the marker was old and unattractive,and in contrast with the bright room,it was plain and running out of ink.Maybe that was how the kids thought themselves-lacking in educational talent,they are rejected and highly contrasting with the children that scored A*s in all their subjects.

He traipses back to the whiteboard,using the final drops of ink to write in difficulty- "Good luck for exams.Please try to do your best! If you do your best,you will get a treat at *Ryan Shop!*".

With difficulty,he summoned the last vestiges of green liquid in the marker and drew a smile-a plain one,just one with an equal sign with a close-bracket behind- and left the room.