I Feel Like I'm Drowning - Joshler

Sorry if there still are french words in this. I checked but, yea.

Being a teacher is never an easy job: a teacher must repeat the same things year after year ; try to refresh the program to offer a different approach to students who absolutely don't care about it, students who, most of whom are immature, some that will never do the work asked ; know how to put their own problems aside and never show them in the workplace, because the role of a teacher isn't only to teach, but also to be present for these said students, to represent academic and moral support.

Do you know what sucks the most when being a teacher in highschool? Having to teach last period of the day. The only friend of a student between 4:30pm and 5:30pm is the clock.

Each tired and impatient look is on the clock.

But do you know what sucks even more than having to teach last period? It's having to manage a detention right after last period.

While each student was focused staring at the big needle, Tyler wasn't.

While, when the bell rang 5:30pm, smiles found their way back on each student's face, all of them rushing out of school, it wasn't Tyler's case.

After spending his whole day trying to quell his anger, he was heading to the much-loved room 217.

Having had two free periods before this one, he had spent his time at the library, doodling and writing.

It happened to him very often, to write. None of the sentences or more specifically pieces of sentences he wrote led to anything concrete, but he was trying.

He had so many ideas, but writing required far too much concentration for his liking. Organizing his thoughts, finding the right words, thinking about structure... It was hard. And that's why he continued writting.

He refused to admit it, and knew it'd probably never happen, but deep down he hoped one day he would learn to manadge his disorder by himself and no longer depend on those insignificant little pills.

Well, not that insignificant in the end. They were stronger than him.

Maybe he was the insignificant one.

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he reached room 217. The door was open and all the students seemed to be gone, no sound suggesting there still were students inside could be heard. But Tyler guessed the yellow heared man woud be in there.

Tyler knew the way he had acted earlier was wrong and that he had acted under pressure and impulsion, but he in no way wanted to be nice with this professor.

A bruise colored the hump on his right cheekbone, and he wouldn't be surprised to see some more if he lifted his shirt and took a look at his stomach. It didn't hurt that much, but it sure didn't help his temper. He wasn't thinking about the consequences of his actions yet and didn't regret anything, he only had been defending himself after all.

Okay, he had gone overboard with this teacher, but- no! He didn't care!

The only thing he wanted right at this moment was to get back to bed and sleep, and that yellow haired idiot was only delaying that process.

If only he knew how much he would join his bed faster than he thought.

He didn't bother knocking on the door or announcing his arrival as he stormed inside, getting seated at the back of the room and glaring at the teacher who, sitting at his desk, lifted his eyes from his papers to look at the student, a raised eyebrow, amazed at the behavior.

"No. You're going to make that entry again." The older man said calmly as he got up and walked slowly around his desk, sitting on it and folding his arms, watching the boy attentively. "You're going to knock on the door, and wait for me to ask you to come in."