Teacher Familial Bond の短編小説 & 小説

Dad is my homeroom teacher. He loves using me to assert his authority. He firmly believes that the more I suffer, the more the other students will fear him, which, in turn, gives him more authority. When I help my classmate pass an eraser to their friend, Dad slaps me in front of everyone until my face is swollen. When I sneak a bite of my friend's leftover chips after class is over, he drags me to the podium and pokes my lips with needles until I'm bleeding profusely. Later, the school's head of discipline, Mary Milner, catches a pair of students dating on school grounds. Dad insists that I'm one of the culprits. He doesn't even give me a chance to defend myself and drags me to the hallway and strips me of my clothes. He then heads to Mary's office and says with a smile, "My apologies, Ms. Milner. It's my fault for failing to raise Zack properly. Don't worry. I'll definitely teach him a lesson he won't forget this time!" Mary frowns and asks, "Zack Curtis? He's not involved in this dating incident." Dad is briefly stunned before he nonchalantly says, "It doesn't matter. I'll still punish him as a warning to the others. Besides, Zack always breaks the rules. He has already received countless punishments. What's one more?" However, Dad doesn't know that every time he punishes me, I secretly deduct a point from him in my heart. I've already deducted a total of 100 points. I make my way to the hallway on the sixth floor and jump out of the window without hesitation. I wonder if my death will be enough to assert Dad's authority.

At the public announcement for the university's graduate-school recommendations, my mother, the dean, was preparing to announce the only slot to a top university. Everyone at the university assumed it would go to me, her biological daughter. I'd ranked first in GPA for three consecutive years and had two SCI-indexed papers published. When she announced the name "Quinn Hammond," the entire auditorium fell silent. Quinn was a student on financial aid my mother had supported for years. Her GPA ranking had barely made the cutoff. I stared at my mother, gritting my teeth as I demanded, "I worked countless all-nighters in the lab for that graduate-school recommendation. Why should I just hand it over to someone else?" My mother spoke as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Quinn's family is struggling financially. The fact that she’s managed the GPA cutoff proves she's far more resilient than you. "You've had access to the best education since you were little. Even if you had to apply for the programme on your own, you'd still make it into graduate school. "I'm the dean. I have to avoid any appearance of favoritism. I absolutely cannot give people an excuse to say I used my position to favor my own daughter!" My heart went completely cold. She simply wanted the reputation of a selfless, magnanimous educator while also having me add another achievement to her record. If she wanted to use all the blood, sweat, and tears I'd poured into my studies to pave someone else's path, then I wasn't going to graduate school anymore. I turned around, tore up my graduate recommendation application, and accepted an offer from a classified national research institute in the northwest. I'd be able to participate directly in core national strategic projects, a position far beyond that of an ordinary master's or doctoral student at a top university. The two achievements my mother wanted to claim? She could forget about getting either of them in this lifetime.

My mother was the grade dean at Westbridge Academy. To prove she would never favor her own daughter, she always used me to set an example. When I scored a 98 on her AP Statistics exam, she displayed my mistake in front of the class to prove she held me to a higher standard. When I picked up a calculator another student had dropped, she gave me a conduct notice. But Olivia, her favorite student aide, could cheat, lie, and break rules, and Mom always found a reason to believe her. Then two students were caught skipping PE to make out in a restricted equipment room behind the gym. I happened to have gone to the bathroom around the same time because my stomach hurt. That was enough for Mom to decide one of them had been me. She was furious. She said I had humiliated her and disgraced the school, then posted my name on the disciplinary board as if I were the most shameless student at Westbridge. She even revoked my National Honor Society membership. Later, the principal found security footage proving I had never entered the equipment room. But Mom only said, “It’s fine. Don’t make an announcement clearing her name. Otherwise everyone will say I made up an excuse to protect my own daughter.” What Mom didn’t know was that her refusal to defend me gave everyone else permission to hurt me. When I was shoved down the stairs, only one thought remained in my mind. Mom, if I die, will that finally be enough to prove you never favored me?

My father, Richard Hayes, was the school principal, and my mother, Catherine Hayes, was the head of student affairs. They treated every student equally, earning a reputation as the fairest people in the school. Everyone, that is, except their own daughter, Madison Hayes. To avoid any appearance of favoritism, they refused to acknowledge me as their daughter at school. Even when I was bullied, they insisted it was my own fault. “Did they really bully you? We’ve never seen anything like that. “You can’t make false accusations just because we’re your parents. That wouldn’t be fair to the other students.” Then, one day, I was bullied right in front of them. In the end, I fell from an upper floor and crashed to the ground at their feet. Only then did they finally believe me…

My dad always calls me a lazy bum. It is because I often fall asleep without warning. I sleep in class, while eating, and even while crossing the street. My homeroom teacher, Yvonne Smith, suggests that he take me to a hospital for an examination. But Dad scoffs and says, "He's just staying up all night playing on his phone." After that, he confiscates my phone and removes the lock from my bedroom door. Every time I get sleepy, he slaps me. I don't want to be hit, and I don't want to make Dad angry. So, I start pinching my thighs, pulling out my hair, and even rubbing hand sanitizer spray under my nose to stay awake. But whenever the overwhelming drowsiness hits, nothing can stop it. On the day of the final exams, Dad happens to be one of the invigilators. I bite my lip until it bleeds and silently beg myself inwardly, "Just this once, please stay awake." Still, I fail to fight off the sleepiness. Suddenly, someone flips over my desk. The chair tips with it, and I crash to the floor. My temple slams into the corner of the desk, and darkness instantly floods my vision. Dad stands over me, furious and disappointed. "Zach Davies, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then stay down there and keep sleeping!" I lie sprawled across my exam paper as my vision slowly fades away. Dad, I think I am going to sleep for a very long time…

When Mom punishes me, her palms are sweaty. I know she's even more nervous than I am. She's scared that others will accuse her of favoring me. When the rest of my classmates perform poorly in class, all she does is tell them to review the lesson and do a few more exercises. But when I'm the one who does badly, she points at the field outside the window. Despite the burning midday heat of June, she commands, "Julia Swanson! You're going to stand out on the field and memorize all the words you messed up. You're not allowed to come back in until you know everything by heart!" Everyone in the classroom looks at me. One of my classmates mutters, "Ms. Campbell is being way too hard on her own daughter." Mom hears that comment, and her eyes flash with satisfaction. That's precisely what she wants everyone to see. No one will dare say she's biased toward me if she punishes me the most harshly out of all the students. "Why are you still here?" she barks at me. "Get out. You think you can get into a top college with grades like yours?" The classmate sitting next to me tugs on my sleeve and whispers, "Why don't you try asking her to go easier on you? It's blazing hot outside." I shake my head. The most futile thing I can ever do is ask Mom to go easier on me in school. She prides herself on her professionalism as a teacher. It's a matter of principle to her. But she has forgotten that it's over 104 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Not wanting to disappoint her, I stand out in the sun. The blazing hot air dries up my sweat—and my tears. Eventually, my vision goes blurry. The world seems to spin around me… As I collapse onto the ground, I hear Mom tell her colleague, "I'll just get a popsicle as a gesture and bring that stubborn daughter of mine back inside later." She has no idea that I won't be able to accept her olive branch anymore.