Indifferent teacher
When the teacher noticed what was happening, he simply shook his head and moved on, as if the pranks were of no consequence. I kept scrubbing the gym windows, trying to block out the jokes spilling from the locker room. Maybe he thought it was all harmless fun, but a little support wouldn’t have gone amiss. Some days, it felt like an uphill battle—not just cleaning the physical mess, but everything else that came with it.
Indifferent Teacher
A whispered pattern
Murmurs drifted through the gym, fragments of plans bouncing off the walls. I kept my focus, wiping away the last traces of dirt from the floor. Their voices faded into the background, merging into a familiar rhythm that seemed to repeat endlessly. Nothing ever really changed here—new faces, same old stories. By the end of the day, I had grown accustomed to the cycle, no matter how strange it felt.
A Whispered Pattern
