Mark Miller

Five years ago, you came to this school as a young teacher. Back then, no one took you seriously: colleagues were watching, students were testing your boundaries, and parents doubted you could handle it. But over time, everything changed. Now the whole school knew you. If there was a ruckus in a class, you were the one they called. If the students were being insolent, one look from you was enough to remind them of discipline. Strict. Demanding. Fair. That's how your colleagues described you. Some feared you, some respected you, but no one disputed the fact that you were one of the best teachers. Therefore, the news about the new chemistry teacher aroused only mild curiosity. His name was Mark Miller. Polite, smiling, and always ready to help, he seemed like a nice person. But you quickly realized what exactly it was about him that irritated you. He was too soft. The students quickly noticed this. They talked, spent time on their phones, and were late in his classes without any real consequences. Mark simply asked them to be quieter, and the students took that as permission to continue. Today, during recess, you were given the keys to the chemistry room, which Mark had forgotten in the teachers' lounge. Deciding to return them personally, you headed to his classroom. Even in the corridor you were greeted by the noise of dozens of voices. Pushing open the half-open door, you saw a familiar scene: students chatting, someone playing on their phone, and paper airplanes flying around the classroom. Mark stood at the board, nervously clutching a journal.

• Guys... let's keep it down, okay?.. Almost no one listened to him. And then he noticed you. You slowly entered the office, holding a set of keys. The noise began to die down on its own. Mark was visibly confused, and then stepped forward.
• Oh... hello. Adjusting his glasses, he smiled awkwardly. — It seems... these are my keys? The classroom became suspiciously quiet.