Private Teacher Novels & Stories

The staff room buzzes with the usual midday chatter, a mix of exhaustion and relief as the lunch bell echoes through the halls. Ms. Elena Ramirez sits at the long table, grading papers with a red pen, her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail, glasses perched on her nose. She’s the new English teacher, mid-thirties, curvy in her fitted blouse and pencil skirt that hugs her hips just right. Around her, the others unwind—Mr. Davis, the burly history teacher, laughs too loud at a joke from Ms. Thompson, the art instructor who’s always got paint smudges on her sleeves.

She introduced herself, “Hi my name is Serena. I’ll be your teacher.” Serena was a woman with long black hair, emerald, green eyes and a tall, muscular frame. Her face was ethereal and it took her boys’ breath away. It was almost a full minute before Kevin asked, “Can you teach all five of us?” She laughed, “I can. I will also be able to help Silas with his SAT’s, when the time comes. I’m going to get some lunch. I’ll see you all in the morning at 8am. I’ll meet you all here to take you to my classroom.”

“Just a normal human teacher.” I exhaled, relieved but disappointed.

After Robert dropped her in front of the elite school, Catherine was taken to the principal's office by the representative. All her formalities were already done by Thomas. So she just needed to collect her ID and class routine. "I am Monica, the class representative. Let me walk you to your class," a cute chubby girl with glasses greeted Catherine as soon as she came out of the principal's office. "Thank you. Are we in the same class?" Catherine asked on their way to class.

Hey, wake up! Her colleague knocked on her head from behind. "You're just a working kid. Don't learn from others and fall in love early! He's a math teacher of L! Stop thinking about it! He comes every week. There are many girls who want to chase him, but none of them succeeded. He's already frozen to death." "A middle school math teacher? Wow, so cool." Xia Gladyce rubbed her head, rolled her eyes, and raised the corner of her mouth.

But who is he then? "I'm so sorry mother. I saw the two of you together and I assumed—" "Save it, child." She placed her hand up and motioned for me to keep quiet and I did, swallowing the rest of the apology. I've messed up so badly. "This is Mr. Evans, I'll say it to you again in case you were too carried away with your misbehavior to listen." She introduced herself again. "Mr. Evans here is a certified teacher and is very vast in all your major subjects. He's the best I could find in the area and his reviews are highly praised, meaning he's the right man for the job."

Me: Wow- subject change! TeacherPet: yep TeacherPet: so tell me Me: Nothing special Me: just shorts and a t-shirt TeacherPet: oh TeacherPet: im wearing a towel Me: That's it? TeacherPet: yup TeacherPet: like that? Me: Don't be coy TeacherPet: wanna see? Me: Sure TeacherPet: okay TeacherPet: oops wait… TeacherPet: I don't have my camera anymore Me: doh TeacherPet: guess you'll have to come over to see

They can't wait to see the new teacher in the first lesson, and the students will undoubtedly be very excited about learning. Before long, the teacher who was trending today arrived in class. He came in coolly enough to make some students scream hysterically. "Good morning," he said. "Morning, Pa," answered the whole class together. "Okay, first, I will introduce myself. My name is Zeyn Samuel you can call me Mr. Zey, I am 26 years old, and I teach computer lessons. I hope you can work with me. If anyone wants to ask, please ask me to open a question and answer session for ten minutes. "

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biophar

the principal said, his voice so stern that I couldn't bring myself to go on talking. "I have seen enough evidence and the meeting with you seems to be spiralling into a yelling match. I acknowledge your soundness of character so far. And that is why I have come to a decision. I understand you are flustered and emotional, and we as the council will take a step back too. Two weeks. I will give you three options. Two weeks to stand here and give me concrete evidence that these texts were not from a teacher, or for you to compile a list of those teachers, and the particular grades that had been influenced, or we will pass our own judgement, and you should prepare yourself for that."