The classroom looked half asleep.
Kirran couldn’t entirely blame them.
It was first period.
The lights were slightly dim.
Warm air settled over the classroom like a blanket nobody had asked for, softening the edges of every sound and making the dim lights feel even heavier.
The faint hum of the vents, the glow of tired tablets, and the slow shuffle of half-awake students turned first period into something less like a lesson and more like a quiet battle against sleep.
And today’s topic was Shakespeare.
Again.
Several students stared blankly at their tablets.
Others rested their heads on their desks.
One student appeared to be attempting to sleep with his eyes open.
Kirran was somewhat impressed.
“Good morning, everyone.” A few students mumbled something resembling a greeting.
One waved lazily.
Another groaned.
Kirran smiled.
“Excellent energy.” Nobody laughed.
Mach’s icon appeared on the corner of his classroom display.
“I estimate classroom enthusiasm at twelve percent.” “That’s higher than I expected.” “It is being carried entirely by one student.” Kirran glanced toward the front row.
A girl enthusiastically raised her hand.
“Good morning, Mr.
Killian!” “There she is.” The source of the twelve percent.
◇ ◇ ◇ Kirran moved to the front of the room.
“Okay.” “I have good news.” Several heads lifted.
“After today, there won’t be any more assignments about Shakespeare.” The room immediately came alive.
Students sat upright.
Eyes widened.
Hope appeared.
Kirran waited.
Then smiled.
“Just kidding.” The collective groan shook the room.
One student actually dropped his forehead onto his desk.
Another whispered a prayer.
Kirran felt a little guilty.
Only a little.
◇ ◇ ◇ “Today we’re discussing Henry V.” The projector lit up.
A quote appeared on the screen.
Kirran cleared his throat.
Then read aloud.
The room gradually grew quieter.
Despite their complaints, Shakespeare had a strange effect on people.
The rhythm.
The language.
The emotion.
For a brief moment, students listened.
Really listened.
When he finished, Kirran looked around the room.
“All right.” “What is the king saying about duty?” Silence.
Nothing.
Not even a guess.
Kirran waited.
Still nothing.
A student slowly raised his hand.
Hope surged.
“Yes?” “Is duty the guy he’s talking to?” Kirran closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
Mach’s icon blinked sympathetically.
“My condolences.” ◇ ◇ ◇ The bell finally rang.
Students rushed from the room with remarkable speed.
It was honestly impressive.
Kirran watched them disappear.
Another day.
Another battle lost in the war against literature.
“You tried.” Mach sounded genuinely supportive.
“Thanks.” “I do not believe they understood anything.” “Thanks, Mach.” ◇ ◇ ◇ As the classroom emptied, Kirran rolled into the hallway.
The school buzzed with activity.
Students moved between classes.
Teachers prepared lessons.
Conversations echoed through the building.
And across the hall— There she was.
Mikayla McIntosh.
Kirran snapped his gaze toward the opposite wall, suddenly fascinated by absolutely nothing.
Heat crept up his neck anyway, and the quick movement only made the glance feel more obvious, like he had announced his crush to the entire hallway without saying a word.
Too late.
Mach had already noticed.
“My sensors indicate an elevated heart rate.” “Hush.” “It has increased by sixteen percent.” “Mach.” “You are looking at Miss McIntosh again.” “I’m not.” “You literally just did.” Kirran resisted the urge to unplug him.
Mikayla laughed at something one of her students said.
The sound carried across the hallway.
Kirran smiled despite himself.
She was kind.
Patient.
The sort of teacher students actually liked.
Which was honestly unfair.
“Mr.
Killian?” The voice interrupted his thoughts.
Kirran turned.
A student lingered near the classroom doorway.
Christopher Martyn.
Thin.
Quiet.
Long dark hair partially covering one eye.
The sort of student who tried very hard not to be noticed.
“Oh.” “Chris.” Christopher shifted awkwardly.
“You wanted to talk?” “Actually, yeah.” Kirran motioned for him to follow.
They moved toward a quieter section of the hallway.
Students streamed around them.
Most didn’t pay Christopher any attention.
Kirran noticed the way he seemed relieved by that.
“Your essay.” Christopher immediately winced.
“That bad?” Kirran blinked.
“Bad?” “Chris, your essay was fantastic.” The student looked genuinely surprised.
“Really?” “One of the best I’ve read all semester.” Christopher stared at the floor.
“Oh.” That was all he said.
Just “oh.” As though compliments were something unfamiliar.
Kirran frowned slightly.
“You don’t hear that very often, do you?” Christopher shrugged.
“Not really.” Something about that answer bothered him.
◇ ◇ ◇ They continued talking.
At first, Christopher gave short answers.
One-word responses.
Tiny shrugs.
Avoiding eye contact.
But as the conversation shifted toward literature and writing, something changed.
The student gradually opened up.
Ideas began pouring out.
Thoughts.
Interpretations.
Questions.
The same boy who barely spoke in class suddenly couldn’t stop talking.
Kirran smiled.
There he is.
The real Christopher.
◇ ◇ ◇ “So why don’t you ever answer questions during class?” Christopher immediately looked uncomfortable again.
“I don’t know.” “Sure you do.” A long silence followed.
Finally— “What if I get it wrong?” Kirran nodded.
There it was.
The real answer.
“What if you get it right?” Christopher blinked.
“That’s different.” “Why?” The student didn’t have an answer.
◇ ◇ ◇ Kirran thought for a moment.
Then looked toward Mach.
The Vent already understood.
A small compartment opened.
One robotic arm extended outward.
A card rested in its mechanical hand.
Christopher stared.
“What is that?” “Tutoring program.” Christopher immediately shook his head.
“No way.” “Why not?” “Because I’d be terrible at it.” Kirran laughed.
“You literally just explained Henry V better than half the class.” “That’s different.” “You keep saying that.” Christopher looked away.
The card remained extended.
Waiting.
◇ ◇ ◇ Finally— Very slowly— Christopher accepted it.
The movement was so small Kirran almost missed it.
The student studied the card.
Then sighed.
“Okay.” Kirran smiled.
“Okay?” “Okay.” Christopher rubbed the back of his neck.
“But only if you’ll be there.” Kirran laughed.
“Deal.” The student nodded.
For the first time all day, he actually smiled.
It wasn’t a big smile.
Just a small one.
But it was real.
And that felt like a victory.
◇ ◇ ◇ Christopher disappeared down the hallway.
Kirran watched him go.
“See that?” Mach’s icon appeared.
“I do.” “I think we made a breakthrough.” “I believe so.” Kirran smiled.
Sometimes teaching wasn’t about test scores.
Sometimes it wasn’t about grades.
Sometimes it was simply helping one student realize they were capable of more than they believed.
And honestly— Those moments made everything worth it.
◇ ◇ ◇ Unfortunately…
The peaceful part of the day was about to end.
Because outside the school— Someone was screaming.