Chapter 3: Turning Slackers Into Believers

To help the leads study, I decided to start a study group. After grouping the other students, I hesitated, then paired the boy and girl together. I’d personally tutor them! I figured if I kept an eye on them, nothing could go wrong.

I told the boy to let his family know he’d be staying late after school for extra lessons. He gave me a weird look, then just said, "Okay." No argument, no attitude. Honestly, I was almost suspicious.

I was surprised he agreed so easily. He pulled his hoodie down and said calmly, "I want to do well in school, too." His voice was low, almost shy.

That moved me—I felt more and more that I’d made the right choice. Maybe all these students just needed a chance, too. Sometimes, all it takes is someone to wipe away the dust and say, "You can do this—why not give it a try?"

"Quiet down, I have an announcement!"

Under my guidance, the class was finally willing to listen. I could see the flickers of hope in their eyes, and honestly, it hit me right in the feels.

After explaining my plan, I couldn’t help but hype them up.

"Class, I set up this study group to create a learning vibe. The SATs are coming—cherish every second! None of you are dumb, you’re all smart. If we work hard, we can catch up to the AP class in no time!"

They stared at me, exchanging glances. Just as things got awkward, the kid who’d bragged about eating three dishes at home piped up, "Catch up to the AP class!"

That one line set off a wildfire—the whole class went nuts, chanting, "Catch up to the AP class!"

The energy was through the roof. I tried to rein them in, yelling, "Don’t yell so loud, geez!"

Too late. Every teacher passing by teased me, "Trying to catch up to the AP class, Ms. Carter?" I just laughed it off, cheeks burning.

I slumped at my desk in mock despair. I wanted to disappear—no joke. But inside, I was secretly proud. They finally had something to fight for.

Even though the process was bumpy, the results were exactly what I’d hoped for. One of the AP kids overheard our chant and told his class as a joke. Then some AP kids came to our door to mock us. Classic high school politics.

For once, the boy stood up and decked the guy who started it. The principal called in both students and their homeroom teachers. I braced myself for the fallout.

Before I went in, the AP teacher was trash-talking the boy, basically saying a troublemaker like him would never amount to anything. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

After hearing the whole story, I told the boy to speak up. He didn’t disappoint—he calmly explained what happened and made the AP teacher look foolish. In the end, the principal realized it was the AP kid who was in the wrong and let us go. Sweet, sweet justice.

As we left, the principal told me, "Ms. Carter, I look forward to your class’s transformation."

I shot the AP teacher a little wave. Her face was twisted in anger. Satisfying!

"Thank you, Ms. Carter," the boy said sincerely as we left the office.

"Thank me for what? It wasn’t your fault."

I brushed it off, getting a little excited. "If it were me, I’d have punched him too. So what if your grades are good? If you’re a jerk, you’re still nothing."

He looked at me seriously, nodding in agreement. For a second, I saw the kid he could become.

After that, the class was fired up. Every time I walked in, everyone had their heads down studying. I’d sit at the front, watching them work. The late summer breeze rustled the curtains, pens scratched across papers. There was a hum of energy in the air.

For a moment, I thought back to my own summer and that SAT. Maybe I had some regrets, but I hoped theirs would be fewer. I wanted them to have the choices I never did.

After school, I kept the leads behind. I’d analyzed their grades—both were pretty average across the board. The girl hovered around passing, the boy below it. And they still dared to pick STEM tracks? Impressive. Or maybe just stubborn.

I decided to start with English. I handed them two sets of New York State Regents exam papers to try. The clock ticked, the air thick with tension.

After about two hours, I graded them. One scored over 130—wow, not bad! I was impressed. The other? Just over 30. Ouch.

…

"Mason, you didn’t even get close to Callie’s score."

I slapped the test on the table. The boy took it, head down, lips pressed tight. The girl glanced at him, looking guilty. She said, "Ms. Carter, I just got lucky."

?

I looked at them suspiciously. Something was up. I made a mental note to keep an eye on them.

The girl dropped her head under my stare. I let it go and sent the boy home. No point pushing too hard.

On the way back, I couldn’t help but ask, "You’re not dating, are you?"

"No way!"

She reacted like a cat with its tail stepped on, flustered and blushing. Her face was tomato red.

"Oh~"

I nudged her with my elbow, grinning slyly. Her whole face turned red. I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

When I’d teased her enough, I got serious again.

"Date however you want later, but for now, don’t even think about it. Even if you have feelings, bottle them up."

I tucked her hair behind her ear and gently squeezed the back of her neck. I wanted her to know I was on her side.

"Okay."

She answered seriously. I could see she meant it, so I got mischievous again.

"Or, you could pretend to string him along, get him to study hard and get into the same college, then you two can date openly. Hehehe."

"Ms. Carter!"

She blushed even harder. I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in ages.

Classes started at eight, but to help the leads with English, I had them come in at seven. I let the girl sleep a bit longer, called the boy and told him to meet her and come together. I figured a little teamwork wouldn’t hurt.

Sitting in the empty classroom, I yawned. Dang, I regretted reading that novel last night. My eyes felt like sandpaper.

After a while, they still hadn’t shown. I was puzzled, then remembered—this was about the time the girl was usually found and bullied again. My heart dropped.

I jumped up. Crap, did the timeline move up? I grabbed my keys and bolted for the door.

Just as I was about to go look, I saw the leads walking in. The boy had fresh injuries, the girl was holding ointment. Relief washed over me, but I made a mental note to stay more vigilant.

Relieved, but annoyed at myself for letting my guard down, I checked the boy’s scraped hand. He winced but didn’t complain.

"What happened? How’d you get hurt?"

The girl’s eyes filled with tears. "On the way…"

The boy cut her off, explaining, while patting her head, "It’s nothing, just a bunch of idiots. Beat them up and they’ll behave. Don’t cry, it’s just a scratch."

Oh man. Watching them act all sweet, I felt a pang of jealousy. Honestly, I should be flat under a car with how wild this week’s been, not standing here playing nurse. I shook it off and handed him a Band-Aid.

After giving them their morning assignments, I stretched out on my lounge chair to think. Should I make the whole class come in early for English? In a small place like this, English resources are scarce—most people never use it and can’t learn it well. Maybe I could start a club?

I wondered if the kids would go for it. But before eight, students started trickling in. I looked up, surprised—they usually cut it close or were late. Maybe they really were turning over a new leaf?

Maybe it was time to try some of my ideas. If you want to learn, it’s never too late to start. I started jotting down lesson plans, already excited for the next week.

But…

I looked at the student crying in front of me and sighed. This was the tenth student to come to me for help. They’d fallen so far behind that, when they tried to catch up, the mountain of knowledge seemed impossible. Their ideals and reality clashed, and they broke down. My heart ached for them.

I patted her shoulder and comforted her, "It’s okay. You’re already way ahead of where you were." I gave her a reassuring smile, hoping it would help.

The girl just blinked at me, eyes wide, as if to say, "Really?"

Standing at the front, I reassured everyone.

"You can’t rush a grilled cheese."

"Especially not one left out for years."

I paused for effect, then continued, "Uh, anyway, it’s not tasty. Just start from the basics. Buy the simplest practice books and work through them. If you get stuck, look up the topic. Then do more similar problems until you really get it. Got it?"

They all nodded below. Some even cracked a smile at the grilled cheese bit.

Who knew I had it in me?

The class was on fire with learning. I had all the subject teachers redo their lesson plans. Students from other classes passing by were shocked by our energy, and some started secretly working harder, too. Our little revolution was catching on.

The principal grabbed my hand, eyes wet with tears.

"Ms. Carter! Our school’s numbers are shooting up! We’ll catch up to Maple Heights High in no time!"

That sounded awfully familiar… I grinned, remembering our old rallying cry.

Even the AP class was rattled. With the sports meet coming up, their homeroom teacher canceled their participation and made them all stay in and study. Not me, though.

"Class, go have fun! Don’t study for the next three days—just play!"

Hands on my hips, I made the announcement. I almost teared up, remembering how my old teacher forced us to study even during the sports meet. We didn’t play well, didn’t study well—seriously, they should thank me!

But the response was unexpected.

"Ms. Carter, we’ve played for two years. Let us study for once."

"Yeah, Ms. Carter, learn from the AP class!"

…?

I was briefly confused. Is this the new trend? Since when did kids beg to study?

"No way! I said no studying, so no studying. Enjoy yourselves. But after this, don’t even think about slacking off. Remember what you said—if I catch anyone slacking later, hmm."

I shut that down. Rules are rules.

At the sports meet, my class shined. I collected award after award, grinning from ear to ear. They might not be the brightest, but they sure were athletic! I cheered until my voice went hoarse.

That night, I canceled the school’s scheduled quizzes and let them watch movies: "Stand and Deliver," "Homeless to Harvard," and "The Blind Side." I wanted them to see that heroes come from all kinds of places.

Watching them cry their eyes out, I smiled in satisfaction. If you don’t cry at least once in your youth, is it really youth?

Our class became famous across the school. Some were envious, others looked down on us—like that AP kid who tried to stir up trouble again. This time, he was smarter: he anonymously reported me to the principal for not following the curriculum. I rolled my eyes. Kids these days.

But come on, I’ve got connections. Plus, the school’s atmosphere had improved thanks to our class. The principal checked the cameras and found the culprit. So there we were: the principal, me, the troublemaker, and his beloved homeroom teacher, all facing off in the office.

"Principal, I don’t think I did anything wrong," the troublemaker said bravely. "Ms. Carter is disrupting the school’s teaching schedule and affecting other teachers’ routines."

Oh wow, he’s got a way with words. I tsked under my breath. The nerve of this kid.

The principal shot me a look. I smiled back, reassuring him, and said, "Really? I don’t think so. Benjamin Franklin said, ‘Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.’ Our class is behind—they can’t even keep up with the regular classes. But they’re smart, too. They don’t need to be force-fed when they should be playing, and they don’t play dirty tricks like you."

By the end, both the troublemaker and his teacher were sulking. But what’s that got to do with me? Every troublemaker has someone behind them. I left the office with my head held high.

The first monthly test was coming up, but my class was still just getting started. The principal asked if we wanted to participate. The monthly test was internal, while midterms and finals went on record. My class usually only did the latter. I thought it over and declined—I was looking forward to the midterms, to surprise them and myself.

Couldn’t help myself, though. While everyone else took the monthly test, I took my whole class to karaoke for team building.

"Eat up, have fun—tonight, it’s on me!"

I waved my hand grandly. The class cheered. I ordered wings, sodas, and fruit platters. The karaoke fans sang nonstop; others played games or chatted. It was the loudest, happiest I’d ever seen them.

I asked a student to queue up "Don’t Stop Believin’." When it was my turn, I stood up with the mic and shouted, "Sing with me!"

Original lyrics: ‘Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world…’

Sometimes songs carry you. Back in the day, our teacher sang this with us; now I’m singing it with them. No one stays young forever, but there’s always another class coming up. I felt part of something bigger.

Afterwards, the boy helped the tipsy girl out. I looked at her flushed cheeks and shook my head. What a lightweight. I made a mental note to keep an eye on her at the next party.

The cool autumn wind brushed my face, sobering me up. I walked ahead and asked the boy, "You like Callie?"

…

He was silent for a while, then answered quietly but sincerely, "Yes." His voice was raw, honest.

I chuckled, looking up at the sky. "Then study hard and get into college. Some people hide their talents, but you’re just behind. And remember, there’s more than one way to stand up for someone."

Thinking of how the script had the boy go to jail for hurting the guy who hurt the girl, I felt a pang. It wasn’t that he was wrong, but there were better ways. I wanted him to see that, too.

He grunted in agreement. Maybe he understood. Maybe not. But I had to try.

As midterms approached, the class atmosphere got heavier. I was more relaxed—no matter what, they’d do better than before. I told them not to stress, just grab all the points they could.

Everyone kept their heads down, working. It felt oddly familiar—no one paid me any mind. I propped my head on my hand, watching them. Huh, feels like I have a whole brood of kids. I smiled to myself, feeling oddly proud.