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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/JoseTheSlime on 2024-09-17 16:29:10+00:00.

I became a teacher because I couldn’t decide on the right major in college and ended up switching to English. This reawakened my love for writing and reading and I ended up enjoying all my classes. This even got me to start writing again and my creative workshop was an amazing experience. I started to get into the nuances of writing and loved working with older students who could help me critique my work.

When it came time to pick a job, I was stuck with either a teacher or being jobless so I did the prior. As a kid, I hated school and told myself that no matter what, I’d never end up becoming lame like my teachers…pause for obvious irony. I began to apply for jobs and studying for my licensing test and my first day of school was approaching fast.

I ended up being stuck teaching 7th grade ELA in a school that was an hour away from home. At that point, it felt like the universe was pelting me with the consequences of my actions and I was about ready to give up and live at home with my parents. The night before the first day I was looking at the curriculum and dreading the idea of teaching children about themes and how to properly cite evidence; it all felt so below me. I already missed being able to talk to adults about complicated writing and theories of the author’s reasons for writing.

I woke up still dreading the idea of teaching 11 and 12-year-olds, but when I got there and met my students, I was shocked by how quickly they grew on me. My homeroom was filled with quiet, smart, and polite students and my other two classes had some talkative kids but they were all extremely well-behaved. Although I wasn’t teaching exactly what I wanted to be, I was glad to be able to talk to students who didn’t make me feel like I was talking to infants.

As the year went on I still really enjoyed my job and was glad to be able to form these connections with the students. I felt like I was making a difference and looked back on my shame of having to be a teacher with reverence. I told my family that I was going to be a teacher and while they admired it I loathed the idea. Now, I went back to them and admitted I was wrong and it was actually amazing. Every day wasn’t perfect but they were just kids after all, not adults who knew better. I was happy and the dread that filled my body before was long gone.

As all teachers have that one student who makes their life a living hell, so did I. For the sake of confidentiality let’s call him Jacob. Jacob wasn’t a demon or anything but he would randomly refuse to do work and act out whenever he struggled with something. Rather than try to better himself, he would get frustrated and throw things. Because he was the only real problem in any of my classes, I let it slide until I couldn’t. One day he came into class and immediately knocked over a chair; this was the first sign of things taking a turn for the worse. When I asked him why he did that he ignored me and sat in his seat, eyes full of hate and a frown so deep it was like staring at the living embodiment of evil. Class went on and he continued to act out in small ways until he hit another student for making a joke. I reprimanded him but instead of listening and trying to do better, he screamed.

“FUCK YOU!”

I reacted how I was instructed if something like this was to happen and I called out into the hall for the dean. The dean’s job in our school was to deal with the discipline so teachers didn’t have to. He came in, grabbed Jacob, and took him to a room where students were taken if they did something wrong or needed to cool down. The lesson continued as normal and the rest of my day was just fine.

When my last class for the day ended and I was getting ready to head home, Jacob came into my class with a piece of paper gripped tightly in his hand.

“Here,” he said, looking at the ground but holding his hand out.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to show him that I was already over the outburst.

“Just take the God damn paper”

He held the paper out until I took it, and then he marched out of the room. Written on the paper was the word “sorry” written in horrid handwriting. He was forced to write this and bring it to me. I finished reading the single word and caught a glimpse of Jacob staring at me from my doorway. My skin crawled as I saw the look on his face: it was similar to his look earlier in the day except somehow much more sinister. When our eyes met he left the room and slammed the door. I tried to let this experience go and move on but Jacob did not feel the same.

The next day I saw Jacob again and without saying anything he sat in his seat and glared at me. This was the case for the whole class and he refused to even write his name on the paper. I would be lying if I said his look didn’t scare me to my core. There was something about seeing such raw, horrifying evil in someone so young. He didn’t act out or talk, he just sat there. Class ended and everyone including him left the room. I wanted to see if other teachers have noticed this behavior from him before so I spoke to his teacher from last year.

“He’s always been like this,” his homeroom teacher from last year said, “He barely does any work, he overreacts, and he stares at anyone who gets him into trouble. I’m assuming the dean told his mom, he’s terrified of his mom.”

“Has he ever held this sort of hatred for any other teacher before?” I asked, almost worried for my safety.

“Not in the way that you are describing but he’s just like that, give him some time, he will have to get over it eventually”

Her words did not console me at all but I wasn’t going to give up on him, he’s just a kid.

This went on for months but only for my class. It got to the point where I couldn’t wait for Christmas break just so I didn’t have to see him for a month. I saw him in other classes and he was acting perfectly normal, but the moment he came into my room or saw me in the hall, that menacing look took over. I started to find him spying on me from the window next to my door but he would just stare with that look until I met his eye, then he would continue down the hall. I’m not sure if I was scared of him or I wanted to believe this would all just blow away eventually, but I didn’t tell anyone in the school about what was going on…this was where like college, I knew the universe was going to be assaulting me with the consequence to my action.

At the beginning of the year, kids were asking me all sorts of questions about who I was as a person: where I was from, what was my ethnicity, and how old I was. I explained that I lived in a city an hour away and they were all shocked by this. They thought I was crazy for living so far away and wanted to check the distance from the school to the city I lived in on Google Maps, so, I told them the name. It seemed so innocent at the time, it was just a city, it’s not like I gave out my address or showed a picture of my house or anything, but this was another mistake.

When we got back from Christmas break, I started grabbing a coffee after work at a local cafe near the school. I made it a New Year’s resolution to start writing again for at least an hour a day because I felt like I wasn’t doing what I loved enough. It helped me get back into a rhythm and the cafe was my new favorite comfort place. The music was great, it was within walking distance from the school, and they had a great cappuccino. The baristas started memorizing my order and I sat in the same place every day and wrote; it was wonderful.

I started forgetting that Jacob was even in my class because he would just sit there and I ignored him because I knew nothing was going to change. It seems he didn’t like that because one day as I was enjoying my coffee and typing away, I noticed someone glaring through the front window of the cafe. There was a glare so I couldn’t see who, until after half an hour, I got up to throw my trash away and head home. The person glaring was still there and I only realized who when I grabbed the handle to the door. The person scurried away but I recognized his face – it was Jacob. How did he know that I started going there every day? Did he follow me? Why was he doing this now? I should have realized that ignoring him was not going to solve my problems but the cafe was so close to the school that I justified how he could have stumbled across me. I was still freaked out though, so the next day I was going to keep an eye out and see if he followed me.

He did. Jacob tried hiding behind the corners of the buildings we walked past but I saw him; not only that, I could feel his eyes on the back of my skull. I was being stalked by a student, what was the protocol for this? I had enough and the next day of school asked him to stay after class.

“Jacob we need to talk about you following me after school,” I began, tone serious but careful, “You cannot be doing that. Not only is it strange but it’s also very creepy. If you continue I’ll have to tell…” He cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

“YOU’RE GOING TO RAT ME OUT AGAIN?” his voice echoed in the classroom and I jumped, “I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

He ran out of the room, once again slamming the door on the way out. Why did I believe him when he said those words?

Jacob stopped coming to school. I informed the principal of his threat and the way he had been behaving for months and I was scolded for not telling them sooner. He always had issues but they had no idea it was t…

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