The sound of chalk running across the board was heard in the otherwise empty classroom. A lone man stood writing. "Anderson," the board read. The chalking continued on. Below his name, he wrote,“Children must be taught how to think, not what to think.” ― Margaret Mead. The word "how" was noticeably larger than the rest of the quote.

His students began trickling in. They looked at him with surprise. The first to speak up was a boy in his mid teens. "Where's Mrs. Santini?"

The man turned to his audience. "Mrs. Santini will be absent for the foreseeable. I cannot discuss the details. I will be your instructor for the duration of this semester."

Another boy cracked a joke to his friends. "Bet ya she finally kicked the bucket. The old bitch."

"Gerry Gordon, repeat that louder," he said with authoritative tone, "I'm sure I heard you incorrectly." The boy's face was one of defiance. However, his Aura betrayed him. An orange glow tainted his previously confident appearance. No response came forth. The Mastigos sat upon the desk, with his legs crossed upon his knee with both hands upon it. "Go on," he coaxed. "Do not be afraid to speak your mind."

Again, the boy did not respond. By now half the class was full with pupils.

"How disappointing." Mr. Anderson shook his head. He arose from his seat. "I'm old and my hearing isn't as sharp as it once was." He tapped the desk before him, "I want you right here."

"No!" the boy finally replied with a shout. "I'm not moving!"

The instructor nodded. "At last, there's the courage." Gerry's Aura remained fearful and tinged with crimson. Anger was boiling up within the juvenile. "Tell me then, why should I not have you relocate closer to me?"

"Because I'm good where I'm at."

"And what evidence supports this claim of yours?"

The boy fumbled, "What?"

"I asked, what evidence do you have, to support your claim that you are in a position where your educational needs are met."

Growing flustered. "I don't need to tell you that! I'm not moving!"

"Is that your supporting rationale?"

"YEA!" he bellowed.

Mr. Anderson nodded again. "You have a choice. Sit up here where I have designated. Or," he paused for several long seconds. All eyes focused upon the new teacher. "Or, you remain where you are; followed by discussing a performance improvement plan after school today. Again, entirely your choice on this matter."

"Screw you! I'm not moving and I'm not taking detention!" orange and crimson intermingled.

Anderson arose and walked to Gerry. "That is where you are wrong. You were given a choice. You have made it." The Warlock stared down at him. Again, wielding the uncomfortable silence of the room like a sword. "You will report to this room at the end of the day. Together, we will discuss this situation and how to prevent it from occurring again."

Each word was enunciated for its intended terror, "Do I make myself clear?"

Orange flooded the boy's Aura. "Yes, Mr. Anderson."

"Good. Now apologize to the class for wasting their time."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson."

"I said apologize to the class. Not to me. You are wasting their time."

"I'm sorry, class." His apology was met with stares.

"Now that this problem is resolved." Anderson turned and walked back to the front of the room. "Today, we will be picking up where Mrs. Santini left off."