I really saw a student crying, but it wasn't my own doing, making it not the least bit enjoyable. Instead, it was the good ol' mobbing I witnessed when walking down a corridor, looking for the vending machine.
A few typical it-girls, surrounded a plain timid one. Her schoolbag was emptied on the floor; she had a slap mark on her cheek and was crying silently, the girls mocking her and whatnot.
Reaching into my dress pocket, I took my folding phone out. It was old, but it could produce acceptable pictures. I photographed them, the sound of the camera echoing through the empty corridor.
The girls turned back, and I appreciated my picture.
"Mobbing at school, Slytherin gets points deducted yet again."
A blonde walked toward me, trying to snatch my phone, but I kicked her knee, which resulted in her falling on the floor. They should have understood that I was a teacher because of my dress and the clipboard, or maybe my legend had reached them already.
"Have you just assaulted a student?" A second girl helped the first one up. Accusing me as if she had leverage against me.
I shrugged,
"You know best that in this corner are no cameras; for that reason, you chose this place for the mobbing."
Another with big earrings yelled,
"We will report you!!" The kicked girl was helped up, and they exchanged glances of encouragement against the enemy—me. Meanwhile, the victim of the mobbing packed her bag in and fled the scene.
Nodding, I motioned for them the way,
"Let's go; I'll accompany you to the principal."
They got more sure of themselves, leading the way. Following them, we waited until the principal was free, which didn't take long, and entered his office.
They started, while I chose someplace to sit down.
"A student lost her balance, and we helped her up. The teacher had misunderstood us and kicked her." She pointed at the limping girl.
The principal had only yesterday welcomed me, so he should remember. Nodding lightly, he turned to me, wanting to hear my account of the events.
"I stumbled upon them mobbing someone and took a picture to identify them, in case they made a run for it. One of them lunged at me, trying to wrestle away my private property, and ended up injuring herself." It was not really a lie.
The girls looked at me in disbelief while I continued,
"You can check the surveillance cameras; it happened exactly like I stated."
The principal nodded while the kicked-one's face blackened, confronted with this kind of unfairness for the first time, I bet.
These devils should be kicked until they hang on to their last breath; sadly, I could only do something like this once, using surprise to my advantage. Now that everyone has fancy smartphones, the next time could very well be a trap. Although I felt that justice was on my side, having a video that showed me kicking a student was not preferable.
As this was my only chance, I made sure to kick her a bit harder than necessary.
The girl cried and broke down on the floor, holding her knee as if she were disabled, and while rolling my eyes, I addressed the principal,
"This student seemed to have injured herself heavily; please call an ambulance, before retrieving the surveillance footage and punishing them."
The girl stopped fake crying and started to shed real tears, knowing fully well that there were no cameras and seeing that the principal was inclined to believe me because I was so damn sure of myself.
I relished on the teenagers' tears and desperation, my so much needed reward after being toyed with by a father-son duo in each of their own special ways.
The principal called an ambulance, and the medics soon came up to the office, equipped with a stretcher. While we waited for the ambulance to arrive, the girls were getting more uncomfortable with each passing second, looking at each other in an attempt to communicate silently. They were apparently shocked by how this turned out.
Teenagers are evil little creatures, and if you attack them with either their own methods or take their emotional blackmail unwanted seriously, their skin starts to melt and sizzle in the same way it would when dunking them in holy water. Or pressing a cross against their forehead. Evil, I tell you. Evil.
Seeing the girl lying on the floor, the female paramedic crouched to her side,
"Let me see, darling." She said reassuringly, pulling the girl's hand away from her knee. There was not even a bruise, which would take some time to appear.
However, being a professional, she examined her and moved her leg up and down, to see if it would hurt (or needed to be amputated).
"Sweety, that ain't no injury, most likely a bump."
The girl on the floor burrowed her face in her hands, trembling in shame, and there was an awkward silence that spread, especially when the two men with the stretcher turned to leave while schaking their heads.
"Go back to class." The principal spoke sternly, and the nice medic-lady gave me a sympathizing glance, before leaving as well.
I nodded at her, and we both saw the pain in each other's eyes, lamenting the direction our world was going after witnessing the behavior the upcoming generation had displayed.
Being alone with the principal, I didn't know whether he would pursue the mobbing or kicking incident, but as a gym teacher and a new one at that, I couldn't help the real victim of this incident.
But I had to ask another question.
"Yesterday, you looked at me in surprise. Am I reminding you of a previous student?"