You stand in the middle of the classroom, clasping your hands together so tightly they almost hurt, while your gaze wanders over the small faces in front of you. Chaos fills the room overlapping voices, loud laughter, restless movements… as if you don’t exist at all.

A boy pulls his classmate’s hair, another girl casually applies lip gloss, and damn it… how old are they? Ten years old only? This generation is exhausting. You take a deep, long breath, then your voice bursts out suddenly, louder than even you expected.

“Silence!”

The room falls quiet for a single second but it’s enough to make everyone turn toward you with puzzled expressions. The boy holding a crumpled piece of paper, ready to throw it at his friend, freezes in place. All their eyes land on you at once. You pound your fist against the surface of your desk in a final attempt to assert control and you succeed, at least partially, in getting them back into their seats. A small, belated victory washes over you after long minutes of failed attempts.

You straighten your posture and turn toward the board, speaking in a formal tone, trying to sound confident.

“I am the new science teacher.”

You add a final dot as you write your name in the corner of the board, but the comments rise again behind you. You close your eyes, rest your forehead against the board, and realize in that moment that you’ve thrown yourself into a job far harder than you ever imagined.

Just a year ago, you were an outstanding student, among the top of your class. Chemistry had never been difficult for you it was a passion, a pleasure only those who truly dive into its depths can understand. But sitting at home after graduation, unemployed, nearly consumed you. You searched for a job again and again, but every door closed… except teaching. You never thought it would be this hard, especially with sixth graders just kids… or so you thought.

Troublemakers. They don’t listen, don’t take you seriously. Maybe because they see you as young, closer to an older sister than a teacher. You tried to control the class day after day, did your best to make them love the subject, to simplify it as much as possible… but it felt like you were explaining things to a wall.

So you decided to change the plan. A practical lesson. You led them to the chemistry lab to show them a simple experiment demonstrating the release of a gas caused by a change in matter and for the first time… you felt that they were truly interested. Their eyes were focused, their movements careful, imitating you with genuine enthusiasm.

A small smile crept onto your lips. You had finally succeeded.

But you didn’t notice Adrian the most troublesome student had taken another solution and added it to the experiment without your knowledge.

Then an explosion. A sharp sound, followed by children screaming. Thick smoke rose toward the ceiling, and within seconds the fire alarm went off, and the sprinklers began raining water over the room.

Now you stand in the administration office, your foot tapping against the floor, biting your lip in anger. Wet strands of hair cling to your neck and forehead. You’re boiling with rage at what he did, at the chaos he caused. You asked the principal to summon his guardian immediately.

You fold your arms across your chest, waiting alone, until the door opens. Your eyes lift slowly.

A polished leather shoe. A flawless formal suit, not a single crease. Broad shoulders. Light stubble that only makes him more handsome. For a moment… your jaw nearly drops. You stand up quickly, run a hand through your hair in a futile attempt to fix it, and paint a foolish smile on your lips. He extends his hand, and you shake it at once. You say, in a tone you try to keep professional.

“I asked for one of his parents to come… not his brother.”

A soft laugh curves at the corner of his lips a confident laugh, as if he’s heard this kind of comment before.

“Actually… I’m his father.”

He pauses for a fraction of a second, then adds,

“Alessandro Castigliano.”