All afternoon, I sat grading my students' work. When that was done, I moved on to drafting my teacher assistant assessment report—the final evaluation coming up in two months. Believe it or not, this is the task I dread the most. I hate it. I have no idea why it even exists. Honestly, it's just busywork that no one actually bothers to read. Some parts are real, sure—but others have to be fabricated, like action research and similar nonsense.
I really want to ask my minister husband whether there's a better way to evaluate teachers. He keeps saying he wants teachers to spend as much time as possible in the classroom, yet he keeps piling on endless projects and nonstop training sessions. The workload outside of teaching is overwhelming. With all this, where exactly are we supposed to find the time to prepare lessons, Mr. Minister?
Well… I suppose my complaints will never reach his ears anyway. And besides, most of these policies were legacy mandates inherited from the previous minister in the first place.
"Why am I this sleepy…?" My eyelids were drooping, barely staying open. I glanced around—no one was in the Science Department office, and no students were wandering about either. Everyone was already in class. Alright then, just a quick nap. Green tea was absolutely useless.
And I must've slept long enough to completely lose track of time.
"Fireeeee!"
I jolted awake and ran out of the room. No smoke. No alarms. Nothing at all—except my two beloved stepsons, laughing their heads off on the balcony.
"You little liars—always crying wolf," I snapped, hands on my hips. It didn't faze them in the slightest. One of them even pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of me.
"Patnarin, delete that right now!"
"You're actually pretty, Teach." He proudly showed me the photo. My hair was a complete mess—well, I'd just woken up. "Told you not to stay up late doing homework. That's why you ended up passed out and drooling. There goes your image, Teach."
From 'Teacher' to 'Teach.' Yeah… I really was just their playmate.
"What are you two doing here?"
"Aren't we leaving together?" Jao Peem said. Right. Their father had ordered me to play the stepmother role this morning.
"So what? Go home on your own. I already told you—I'm not your driver." Inside school grounds, I had to keep my tone composed. Don't make Teacher I-Tim lose her temper.
"Great. I'll tell Dad," Jao Pat threatened.
"Go ahead. I'll report you too—for what you pulled on me this morning." I hadn't forgotten. And I knew exactly which one of you dared to do it.