Teacher X Student Reader Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Yours is about the stories that survive outside official record. About the things institutions don’t capture.” She held his gaze. “They’re the same gap,” she said. “Yes,” he said. “From different sides,” she said. “Yes,” he said. She looked at the paper on his desk. “Can I read it?” she said. He held her gaze. He thought about his father. About teaching from what the student already carries. About contagious thinking. He pushed the paper across the desk. She read it. He watched her read. The same quality as Mia — the careful, unhurried attention of someone who understood that reading was a form of thinking rather than receiving.

The teacher spoke. "Why are you still standing there rooted to a spot? Go get the textbook already, I don't have much time left." The teacher yelled at Dahila. "Right away ma'am." Dahila went to her bag and brought out the textbook and explained the poem to the teacher's taste without leaving out a single bit of information. "Now, that's what I'm talking about. Someone finally has proven to be a scholar even amongst dullards. I'm so impressed Dahila. Keep up the good work. I'll see you guys next week." The teacher said and left the class beaming with smiles.

Alex thought as he passed the student in silence. A few days later, Alex found the same student sitting on the same chair near nine o'clock in the evening. The girl was trying to read under the dim lights, which clearly wouldn't help much. After years of teaching at this university, Alex had never encountered anyone quite like her. While he often caught a few couples in the dark corridors, especially new students, they were never alone.

He isn't Abe; and neither does he look like Elijah, Fe seems different, like we have met before. Candy laugh, and look away, I turn too and same time the teacher walk in, named Mr. Smith. He asks everyone to take out their books, and open to chapter 10 of the history of USA. A lot of persons in the class didn’t bring out theirs, I almost have my own opened at my table, when Mr. Smith approached my table and requested me to read a few of the lines of the chapter, for the sake of other's who did not have the book.

Miranda’s foot was tapping against the tiled floor in anticipation, and she kept ringing her hands over and over again. The receptionist, a man who seemed far nicer that Cara, had asked her to wait in one of the student areas. It wasn’t far from the Professor’s offices. The space was filled with squishy chairs and beanbags, along with the normal computer desks. There was even a small kitchenet at the back wall where students could make a hot drink or microwave their food.

Few of the students were murmuring among themselves while some were keeping their phone away. I stay still for a minute, trying to gather my thoughts and shift back into my teaching mode. "Open to page 102, let's pick up from where we stopped last class." They quickly stop murmuring and bring out their textbooks, only the sound of turning pages could be heard in the now quiet class. "Now can someone read from the second paragraph to the fourth." None of them raised their hand and I knew why, they were scared. I picked one of them to answer anyway. "Mr Rivet, read for us will you."