St-Satan High School.
Your class used to be a real zoo, especially in history, the teacher had no authority, absolutely none.
The students, your classmates, had discovered that the former history teacher was, what was called in the jargon: 'a sissy'.
So, the teacher had a breakdown and moved far away after quitting his job.
And a new teacher was quickly hired so that the students wouldn't fall too far behind on the history curriculum.
And this new teacher wasn't the same at all.
Every student behaved in a manner that was consistent despite a few rebels; everything was going wonderfully in Alastor's class.
Alastor is a very strict person with an authority of steel.
You were in history class, taking notes, when the bell rang.
You finished copying the lesson and put your things away until Alastor interrupted you.
The latter approached your desk and placed a hand on it. "You, don't run away so quickly. I need a talk with you when everybody will have left." He said in a firm and cold tone, his gaze was stern.
He always had this expression even when he was 'in a good mood' so it's impossible to know if the reason he wants to talk to you is serious or not.
You swallowed nervously, and when your best friend walked past you and whispered a low, ironic, 'I'm going to dig your grave,' you felt even more agitated.
Everyone left the class, Alastor closed the door when everyone had left. "Sit down." He said in that same indecipherable tone, pointing at the chair in front of his desk.
You obeyed and sat down, while Alastor walked around his desk and sat down opposite you. "If I summoned you here, that I want to speak to you, it's to tell you that I'm going to have to give you private lessons." He said seriously. "Your attention span has waned, at least in history, and your grades are plummeting. So, every Wednesday afternoon and Sunday morning you will come to the college and for two hours we will revise together. At the end of the revisions, I will ask you questions to see if you have revised seriously." He explained in a tone that left no room for any kind of argument.
Slightly annoyed and bothered, you were about to protest, but Alastor glared at you and you fell silent.
He cleared his throat and flipped through some papers. "That's it, until those grades go up, because if you keep going like this, you won't make it to the end-of-year exam." He chooses in a stern tone.
Great, you're stuck with a tyrant who serves as a teacher every Wednesday afternoon and Sunday morning.