The School That Handles 99 Problems But Mental Health Ain't One

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The classroom buzzed with chatter, a lively mix of adolescent energy at the local public school. Suddenly, a voice sliced through the noise.

“Who is making that fucking annoying sound!?” The teacher, a bold man with a stern expression, whirled around from the black chalkboard, his eyes blazing with fury.

A heavy silence fell. Students exchanged nervous glances, each one wondering who had committed such a crime.

“I’m going to ask you boys one more time… WHO THE HELL WAS MAKING THAT ANNOYING BANGING SOUND??” His voice boomed, echoing off the walls like thunder.

The tension in the room thickened. Outside, the world continued oblivious—cars rolled by, and birds chirped in the trees, their sounds sharp against the stillness.

“I see, no one will take responsibility, right? Alright then, the whole class STAND UP!!!” The teacher’s tone was cold, slicing through the air. “We’ll all be punished until the guilty party comes forward!”

Twenty agonising minutes dragged on. Students exchanged furtive glances, the atmosphere heavy with dread.

Two boys at the back began to whisper.

“What a coward! Why won’t he just admit it?” one muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Seriously! Unbelievable.” The other shook his head, frustration evident.

“What are you boys chatting about back there?” The teacher’s gaze narrowed, locking onto them.

“Ehhh… sorry, sir.”

“I asked what you were talking about!” His voice was sharp, demanding.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Was it you two who were banging?”

“No, sir… of course not.”

“Then COME ON! What were you talking about? Share with the whole class!”

The boys hesitated, glancing at each other. Finally, they pointed to a quiet, innocent-looking student in the middle row.

“It was him, sir. He was banging on his desk when you were writing.”

The innocent-looking boy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “ME…?”

The whole class turned to him, eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of malice.

After a moment of thinking to himself, he panicked and stammered, “OH… I think… it… it… was actually me…. but I didn’t realise I was doing that though… ”

The teacher’s face turned a deeper shade of red, “WHAT?!!!! What do you mean you didn’t realise that you were tapping on the desk? Are you that dumb? Or have you been sitting on your brain for too long now it’s not syncing with your body? You can’t even keep your hands to yourself, really?” **How pathetic! Such a retard.**

Laughter erupted from the classmates, a harsh chorus of jeers. “What a loser!” one boy shouted, while another added, “Maybe you should go home and practise not being a fool!” The room buzzed with taunts—a relentless wave of derision.

Then, as if to humiliate him further, the teacher leaned in closer, continued his tirade, his voice dripping with mockery, “You think this is a game? You’ll learn what happens when you act like an idiot in my class! Maybe you should try focusing instead of banging your desk like a toddler! DETENTION AFTER SCHOOL TODAY.”

“Class monitor! Make sure this boy goes to detention at the end of the day!”270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6SgSydFrxY

”Yes sir…”270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsUlD45rRAB

The boy’s face burned with shame as the laughter rang in his ears, the weight of mockery cloaking him like a heavy shroud. Thoughts of inadequacy swirled within him.

**Why couldn’t I just be like the others?**

**Why did my hands always seem to have a mind of their own? **

**I hate school! I fucking hate everyone here!**

**I swear I'm going to burn this school down one day!**

Just then, the school bell rang, its chime slicing through the tension—ling ling ling ling ling ling ling ling ling ling…

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