Chapter 1: The Complaint

Because I went to the doctor a few times, the parents teamed up and filed a complaint against me:

Senior year is a big deal, and as the homeroom teacher, you should be there for our kids every second. Seriously, can’t you just skip the doctor for a few months? It’s not like you’re dying.

What if something happens on a weekend and we can’t reach you? If you can’t be that responsible, how can you call yourself a homeroom teacher?

Honestly, it just seems selfish. People like this shouldn’t be teachers at all.

I was both furious and stunned.

These past two years, I’ve run myself into the ground—taking a class from the bottom of the rankings all the way to first place. I worked myself sick and never dared take a single day off, always worried it would hurt the students.

And now they’re calling me selfish.

When word got out that I’d been reported, every one of my students just stared back at me, cold and distant, like it didn’t concern them at all.

My heart went cold.

Whoever wants to be homeroom teacher, they can have it.

A few months later, the very same parents showed up at my door:

“Mr. Grant, please—we’re begging you to come back.”