Erased Teacher Novels & Stories

Before leaving, several people, mostly girls, glared at Erica with smirks. After standing still for a moment, Erica slowly walked towards the woman, then nervously followed her to meet the principal. In the principal's private room, Erica sat solemnly in her chair, facing the teacher. She appeared deeply concerned, with her head lowered and hands clasped. Erica patiently awaited the other party to initiate the conversation. After a moment of silence and careful consideration, the head of the university spoke up with a resolute voice. "Erica Watson. We regret to inform you that your scholarship will be canceled."

Where did all these end? I focused on Patty who was still talking. “One teacher made the mistake of saying no last week when he was asked to leave, he looked towards me and told them to consider me.” I gasped as my hand went over my mouth. “Oh my God. How did that go ?” I asked. She scoffed. “I was pissed. Why the hell would he drag me into his stupidity? Thankfully, that wasn't enough to make them notice me.” She shook her head. “And he just disappeared. I never saw him again till today. He's definitely not coming back.” She said.

I took an eraser and erased all the answers making sure nothing was visible. Thanks for your help, Wade, but it doesn't seem fair. - As we leave math class, Elder intercepts me in the hallway. -Wait a minute," he grabs my arm and makes me turn to look at him. He didn't look happy. -That thing in there, why does that teacher have to answer the test for you? -Elder, I don't know. Maybe he just wanted to help me," I crossed my arms.

I pursued my older sister’s best friend relentlessly for three whole years before she finally agreed to a secret relationship with me. However, after five hidden years together, right as I was preparing to propose, I overheard a conversation between her and her friends. "Your first love is about to return to the country. How do you plan to handle that substitute boyfriend of yours?" "Make sure you have a solid excuse when you break up with him. Don't make it too ugly, or Cora will never forgive you if she finds out her little brother got hurt." After a long silence, she made her decision. "Then I'll just fake amnesia. I'll pretend I forgot the past five years. Since it was a secret relat

She smiled, 'Oh thank goodness you’re okay. I struggled to ask her, 'But what happened to Mr. Yamaguchi?' Her answer made me so happy that I forgot all about the pain in my stomach. She looked at me and frowned. 'You won’t be seeing that awful teacher again. He has been fired. Fancy bringing a dangerous weapon to school, and what was he teaching you? How to kill yourself? I hope he gets jail time for what he did to you!'

Oh yeah, I almost forgot that bad boy side of him. "What did you do know?" I asked, taking a seat on the same row but three desks away from him. I didn't want to be too close to him. I might do something insanely stupid. "Teachers are just idiots. They take everything way to seriously." He ignored my question, but gave me a hint that it was a negative attitude with a teacher. "Tell me about it." I muttered with an eye roll. "Tyler Evans." An old small teacher came walking in the classroom. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?" She shook her head disapprovingly but still had a smile on her face.

It was also utter disrespect to someone who just died. A group of students came out of the computer laboratory and was on the way back to the classroom when they passed by the bulletin board. Misty noticed that Agatha stopped in front of the bulletin, her friend was blankly staring on it. The girl sighed. She assumed her friend, Agatha, still couldn't believe what happened to one of their best teachers and that caused her to sport a lost expression in front of the charts depicting the Faculty tree. "Teacher Agatha is no longer around. They removed her picture and name on the Faculty tree."

I said. He looked sad. "You really hate her that much?" "It’s not about hate. It’s about truth. She wears a mask. I’m just tearing it off." He didn’t respond. He stood up and left the room. I let him go. The next morning, the new video went live. The teacher's voice was shaky, hidden behind a filter. "After the fire, she was different," the teacher said. "She stopped talking. Stopped smiling. Once, she wrote a poem about burning people. I told the school counselor, but nothing happened."

I knocked once. Silence. I knocked again. Harder. The intercom crackled to life. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Samuel’s voice came sharp and smug. “You think I’m scared of you? The whole damn school saw the photos. They’re talking, Ezra Philips. Or should I say, ex-teacher? You screw your students for sport?” My jaw tightened. I said nothing. “You’re finished. Your license is toast. She’s not going to save you. No one will.”

"You do not speak unless spoken to in public. You do not look down. You look through people." "I am a person, not a statue," I snapped, setting a porcelain cup down hard enough to shake the saucer. The teacher did not blink. He just glanced at a camera hidden in the green leaves of a palm tree above us. "You are a problem being fixed, ma’am. Let us try the walking stance again." They were rewriting me. Erasing Clara Vance piece by piece to fit whatever scary role Adrian had planned for his 'Integration.'