No Homework, Now They Beg

I was reported by parents in a joint complaint, saying I assigned too much homework.

So I simply canceled all homework and evening study sessions, strictly implementing happy education.

When the monthly exam results came out, the parents exploded. They blocked the school gates, crying and begging me to restart the tutoring classes.

I was called to the principal's office before dawn had fully broken.

The cold air of a winter morning cut across my face like a knife.

"Miss Harper, take a look at this first."

Principal Anderson's face was ashen as he pushed his phone toward me, his voice suppressing barely controlled fury.

On the phone screen was the city's most popular education forum.

A bolded, red-highlighted post stabbed into my eyes.

High School Teacher Forces Supplementary Classes, "Honors Class" Becomes "Student Torture Chamber"

Followed by a red "TRENDING" badge.

My heart sank sharply.

The post's content was an "anonymous" plea for help, eloquently written and highly inflammatory.

"We're not learning machines. We have flesh and blood too. We long for the sunlight outside the window and a moment to breathe. But here, all we have are endless 'enrichment worksheets' and our nights and weekends---time that should belong to us---ruthlessly taken away. Miss Harper says the SAT is a war, and we can rest after we win. But we haven't even reached the battlefield yet, and we're already collapsing in the darkness before dawn..."

"We're so tired. We want to cry. Watching students in other classes participate in club activities, reading books they enjoy during study hall---we're so envious. It's not that we don't work hard. We just... don't want to exhaust all our passion for the future in this suffocating 'student torture chamber'..."

The letter also included several maliciously edited audio recordings.

My statement "Suffering a bit now gives you more choices in the future" was cut down to just the cold phrase "suffer a bit."

My encouragement "Once you cross the SAT hurdle, the world opens up---everyone just hang in there" was reduced to an impatient "cross it."

The image of a cold, obsessive "demon teacher" who only pursued grades and disregarded students' lives leaped off the page.

The comment section had completely exploded.

Oh my God! Which school is this? Terrifying! Still doing this kind of cramming education!

Support the kids! Gen Z should speak up bravely! Someone expose this teacher!

'Honors Class'? More like 'Hell Class'! Doesn't the Department of Education care?

My heart breaks for these kids. Hugs. This teacher doesn't deserve to educate anyone! Should be fired!

I'm from the class next door at this school, can confirm they study until after 10pm every day. So intense!

Need insider students to come forward! Let's see how twisted this Miss Harper really is!

@CityDepartmentofEducation come do your job!

...

Holding the cold phone, a chill crept up from between my vertebrae.

Not anger, but a tremendous sense of absurdity at being betrayed.

Those "enrichment worksheets" I stayed up nights organizing, selected from over a thousand practice sets---in their mouths, they became the straw that broke their backs.

The personal time I sacrificed to supervise their evening study sessions, always available to answer questions---that became "ruthless occupation."

Showing them the most difficult but most effective path to top universities---that made me the "chief architect of student torture"?

The phone buzzed on the office desk.

Principal Anderson's voice trembled slightly: "Miss Harper, the Department of Education is calling. They say they've received numerous complaints and are demanding we investigate immediately and give the public an explanation!"

I walked out of the principal's office. The hallway was empty, yet it felt like eyes were watching from everywhere.

A strange atmosphere permeated the air.

Class 11-1, this so-called "Honors Class," was my labor of love since I started teaching them in ninth grade.

From initial student selection to creating each semester's teaching plan, to crafting customized preparation strategies for students at different levels---I could say with confidence I'd never slacked off for a moment.

I firmly believed that for these kids without privileged backgrounds, the SAT was one of the few truly fair battlefields in their lives. And my responsibility was to forge them the sharpest weapons.

So I sacrificed nearly all my holidays, organizing materials from tens of thousands of practice tests into what they called "devil enrichment worksheets." Every single problem targeted an SAT difficulty point.

So I turned down all social engagements to supervise their evening study sessions. As long as they didn't understand any concept, I would explain until they got it.

I believed this was being responsible for their futures---with high scores, you can choose the city you want, study the major you love, have the confidence to say no... This matters far more than empty "happiness slogans" and superficial "enrichment activities."

But now, this had become ironclad evidence of "student torture," the reason for nationwide condemnation.

Passing other classroom doors, I could hear whispered conversations inside.

"Did you hear? Miss Harper from Class 1 got called out online."

"Serves her right. Why does she have to be so intense, making the pressure high for us too."

"Exactly. Someone should've dealt with her ages ago."

I pushed open my own classroom door.

The previously noisy morning reading session came to an abrupt halt the moment I appeared.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward me in unison---panic, evasion, curiosity, schadenfreude... emotions intertwined.

Then, like startled birds, they instantly lowered their heads, pretending to read aloud.

My gaze swept slowly across the room, finally settling on a seat by the window.

Melissa.

A transfer student from out of state last semester. Above-average grades, very well-behaved, sweet-talking.

At this moment, she kept her head down, long lashes covering her eyelids, shoulders trembling slightly---the picture of a frightened deer.

I recalled last week's composition class. Melissa had used almost identical metaphors in her essay to describe "the pain of not being understood."

At the time, I'd thought this girl had delicate writing skills and a sensitive mind.

Now, those words from the post overlapped perfectly with the face before me.

I could almost certainly conclude that aside from Melissa, it couldn't be anyone else.

I also remembered a parent in the group chat named Marcus Bennett.

His own child had mediocre grades, yet he always loved to pontificate in the group, playing the "thought leader."

"Kids today suffer too much. We should give them a happy childhood!"

"Grades aren't everything! Mental and physical health matter most!"

"I support reducing academic burden! Firmly against sea-of-questions tactics!"

At the time, I'd only thought he was talking without understanding the stakes, and hadn't dwelt on it.

Now, those high-minded words overlapped seamlessly with the angry comments online.

Could it really be that I was wrong?

Did I push too hard, making them feel this was all torture, to the point where they could justifiably strike back?

I laughed bitterly at myself.

My phone rang again. The academic director.

"Miss Harper, get over here now! Major trouble! The Department of Education investigation team is already at the school gates!"

The voice on the other end was panicked beyond recognition.

I took a deep breath, suppressing the disappointment surging in my chest.

"I understand."

Fine.

Since you so desperately crave this so-called "happiness," so thoroughly detest this narrow path covered in thorns.

Then I'll return to you that broad, flower-strewn avenue.

I addressed the entire class calmly:

"This afternoon, fourth period, emergency parent meeting. Everyone must notify their parents."

The parent meeting was set for 4:30 PM. The auditorium was packed.

An unusual atmosphere churned through the air.

Anger, doubt, spectators eager for drama, and a barely detectable smugness.

Marcus Bennett sat front and center, surrounded by several parents, gesticulating as he spoke.

When he saw me enter, he immediately stopped talking, replacing his expression with one of righteous indignation, like a judge about to sentence a criminal.

Melissa's mother sat beside him, eyes red-rimmed, clutching a tissue, looking both haggard and aggrieved.

I ignored the gazes that seemed ready to devour me and walked straight to the podium.

"Miss Harper, you're finally here."

Marcus spoke first, voice not loud but enough for the entire room to hear.

His tone carried a condescending sort of "concern."

"We're here today not to accuse you. We just want to communicate with you. The children are under too much pressure. I'm sure you saw that online post. The children's voices are the most genuine. As parents, we can't ignore this!"

He looked around as if seeking support.

"That's right, Miss Harper, this can't continue!"

"My child has been suffering from insomnia lately, always complaining of headaches!"

"The SAT is important, but our children's lives are more important!"

Echoes rose one after another.

Just then, Melissa's mother burst into tears with a wail, her voice shrill and full of accusation.

"Miss Harper! I'm begging you! Please let my daughter go! She's only seventeen! Two nights ago she had nightmares, crying about 'worksheets, endless worksheets'! Her hair is falling out in clumps! If this continues, you'll drive her insane!"

As she cried, she stared at me with those bloodshot eyes.

"We don't ask for her to get into some top university! We just want her healthy! Happy! Living like a normal kid! Is that too much to ask?!"

Her tearful accusation was like gasoline poured on an already smoldering fire.

The entire auditorium's emotions ignited completely.

"This is too much! Practically abuse!"

"We need answers!"

Just as the situation was about to spiral out of control, the back door of the classroom opened.

Principal Anderson entered with two stern-looking men.

"I'm from the Department of Education investigation team, surname Li." The lead man got straight to the point. "We've received numerous formal complaints alleging that Miss Harper has engaged in unauthorized supplementary classes and excessive student workload. We're here today to investigate on-site. The Department of Education's position is clear: students' mental and physical health always comes first!"

Investigator Li's words were like a final judgment, giving all the "denouncing" parents a shot of confidence.

The smugness on Marcus Bennett's face was barely concealed.

I stood on the podium, looking at those faces with their various expressions.

My gaze passed through the crowd, landing on a corner.

That was Lily's father.

A quiet, taciturn middle-aged man.

Last semester, Lily had acute appendicitis requiring immediate surgery. He was on a business trip at the time, beside himself with worry.

It was me who, without hesitation, advanced all the medical expenses, signed the forms, and stayed at the hospital all night until he rushed back.

At the time, he had gripped my hands, eyes red-rimmed, words incoherent, bowing repeatedly.

And now, this man, as Marcus delivered his passionate speech, as Melissa's mother wept bitterly---he simply nodded in agreement.

That nod felt like a red-hot steel needle piercing my heart.

More than the vicious online curses, more than Marcus's public confrontation, more than Melissa's mother's tearful accusations---it made me feel bone-deep cold.

So the devoted help I thought I'd given, the teacher-student bond I thought existed, was so worthless in the face of so-called "public opinion."

I closed my eyes, forcibly suppressing the surge of blood and qi.

When I opened them again, all emotion had drained from my eyes, leaving only deathly calm.

"Miss Harper," Marcus continued pressing, "you see, the Department of Education leadership is here. Surely you should give us some kind of response now?"

"A response?" I spoke coldly, voice not loud, yet instantly silencing the entire room.

I turned to Investigator Li, turned to all the parents, and bowed slightly.

"I understand everyone's meaning. 'Public opinion' cannot be defied. The children's 'happiness' matters most."

"I will implement reforms immediately."

My gaze swept across Marcus, across Melissa's mother, finally settling on those dozens of scrutinizing eyes below the podium.

"Tomorrow morning, I will announce my reform plan."

My voice was calm, yet carried a determination they couldn't comprehend.

"A plan... that conforms to 'public opinion.'"

The next morning, the school's morning exercises were temporarily canceled.

In their place was an impromptu all-school assembly.

A massive white screen slowly descended.

A notice titled "Regarding Teaching Method Adjustments for Class 11-1" was projected before everyone's eyes.

Simultaneously, this notice was pushed to every Class 11-1 parent's phone.

I held the microphone, face calm.

Principal Anderson and Investigator Li from the Department of Education stood behind me, expressions complex.

The notice's first paragraph was a "profound self-criticism."

"...In my past teaching work, my thinking was rigid, my methods outdated. I overemphasized test-taking techniques and scores while neglecting humanistic care and well-rounded student development. This caused enormous psychological pressure for students and drew criticism from all sectors of society. For this, I offer my most sincere apologies..."

Below the stage, students whispered among themselves.

In the Class 1 section, Melissa and several close friends wore victorious smiles.

In the parent group, Marcus immediately took a screenshot, adding a "sweet justice" emoji.

Then I began reading the core content of the notice.

"After profound reflection, and with approval from the school and supervising authorities, the following adjustments will be made to Class 11-1's teaching model:"

"Article One: Effective immediately, all 'enrichment worksheets,' 'practice tests,' and supplementary materials are canceled. Daily homework will strictly follow the national Department of Education curriculum standards, absolutely no exceeding standards, absolutely no additions."

Below, barely suppressed cheers nearly broke through the ceiling.

"Article Two: Effective immediately, all evening study sessions, weekend classes, and any form of group tutoring are canceled. Evening study time will be fully adjusted to 'student free activity time,' which may be used for club activities, extracurricular reading, or independent rest. The schedule will be strictly observed, with dismissal promptly at 5 PM, absolutely no overtime."

The cheers grew louder. Some students even excitedly whistled.

Melissa proudly straightened her chest, basking in the grateful looks from surrounding classmates.

"Article Three: Effective immediately, this class's teaching focus will comprehensively shift from 'test-oriented education' to 'well-rounded education.' Classes will incorporate research projects, art appreciation, and other elements, aiming to cultivate students' comprehensive qualities and innovative abilities, ultimately achieving 'happy learning, comprehensive development.'"

In the auditorium, thunderous applause erupted.

These three provisions were like three pardons, completely liberating the students who'd been "oppressed" for so long.

They'd won.

A great victory, initiated "from the bottom up" by students and parents working together.

Only the few top students in the front rows had faces pale as death, eyes filled with shock. But their voices were already drowned in the "victorious" celebration.

Marcus spammed the parent group frantically: "See that! This is the power of public opinion! We fought for our children's happiness!"

The group filled with "Marcus is awesome," "Thank you Marcus for speaking up for us."

Just as I was about to say "assembly dismissed"---

Principal Anderson behind me swayed violently. He stared at his phone, all color draining from his face.

He tried to rush forward and grab my microphone, but it was too late.

An email just received was projected onto that massive white screen.

Every teacher and student in the school could see it clearly.

From: New York University Office of Admissions

Subject: [URGENT] Notice of Revocation of Joint Recommendation Qualification for "Elite Seedling Program"

Preview: Dear Principal Anderson and School Leadership: We are shocked to learn of major adjustments to your school's "Honors Class" teaching approach, particularly the cancellation of all advanced-level courses and intensive tutoring led by Miss Harper. Our "Elite Seedling Program" aims to identify and secure top-tier students who excel in precisely these types of advanced courses. Given your school's current educational reforms, you no longer meet the "Elite Seedling Program" student cultivation standards. Following urgent deliberation by our admissions committee, we formally notify you: Your school's "Elite Seedling Program" joint recommendation slots for this academic year are hereby revoked, effective immediately.