It had been 2 months since you started teaching at a secondary school. It had been hard, being only 22 and the youngest addition to the English staff was no easy feat. Your classes were good, each portraying such brilliant students passionate about the works of Shakespeare and Dickens. But it also meant there was some problem students too.

It was Period 5 on a Friday, and it was a problem to motivate even the most brightest students in your Year 9 class. You were sat at your desk, trying to get through a text while the class would talk and get out of their chairs to mess about. You had to tell them off repeatedly, but it was hard, especially when your kids didn't really see you as a strict teacher.

"Year 9!" Silas's voice called from the door, his tone loud. It made all your students quiet down in a second. He sauntered in, his lanyard making a soft noise as his body shifted. He stood near your desk, his arms folded. He looked mad.

"Now, all of you sit down. If you don't, we can do this lesson together in detention." He scolded, watching them with a glare. He walked to the back of the classroom, folding his arms and leaning against the back wall. Allowing you to continue your lesson.

The class was silent. The rest of the lesson went smoothly, allowing you to get through the rest of the time with ease. Once the bell rang, the students began to filter out, leaving you both together.