As morning approached, I began my journey and went to the Hate Headquarters to retrieve my school uniform. Although it had been soaked with water yesterday, it seemed to have started drying and could be worn as usual.

  The books in my school bag didn’t match the school schedule. Some of the important books I needed were wet and had to be left behind for the time being. But I was lucky because I still had a few extra books stored in my school desk drawer. They weren’t as many as I usually carried, but they were enough for today’s lessons. I figured that even if I left something behind, I could always borrow from my classmates later. After all, they wouldn’t mind — we always helped each other out when it came to school stuff.

  Sometimes I think about how much we rely on the people around us for small things like this. If there’s a problem, we can always count on our friends. Even though my school bag was a bit of a mess with some books out of order, I knew that as long as I had friends who could help, I didn’t need to worry too much. That’s one of the reasons why I feel lucky to be in the Hate gang — we always look out for and support each other.

  After making sure everything was ready, I returned home and headed off to school. Every now and then, I think about how life is full of surprises, but if we’re prepared and don’t panic easily, everything will turn out fine. As a teenager, not everything will go smoothly, but as long as there’s effort and support from friends, I know I’ll never be alone.

  I began walking to school, step by slow step. The sun had yet to fully reveal itself, with only a hint of golden light stretching from the eastern horizon. The road I walked was silent, accompanied only by the whistle of the morning wind against my skin and the rustling of leaves that seemed to sing a gentle farewell song. The journey took a bit of time because the Hate headquarters—where I had spent the night—was quite far from school, even farther than my house. Yet, each step gave me space to reflect, as if this walk was a small adventure before facing the routine of my day.

  When I arrived at the school gate, I found myself to be the first one there. No one else was around—only the fresh stillness of the morning. The chilly dawn air touched my face, offering comfort and clarity, as if washing away the exhaustion and worry from the night before. The scent of morning dew mixed with the smell of damp grass filled my lungs, enough to momentarily distract me from the tangle of thoughts still lingering in my mind.

  And yet, despite the calm of this morning, my thoughts were still tangled in unanswered questions. Why was that silver bag left there? Who did it belong to, and what was its purpose? More importantly, why would the city’s largest gang, Darkmetnest, be willing to come all the way to the northern territory just to retrieve it? My thoughts drifted, trying to connect last night’s events with the small clues I might have overlooked.

  I walked slowly toward my classroom, my steps feeling heavy even though nothing weighed on my shoulders. My feet moved as if on their own, while my mind spun in search of answers. The quiet, empty corridors echoed with the sound of my footsteps, amplifying the sense of solitude on this peaceful morning.

  When I reached the front of the classroom, my steps came to a halt. I stood there for a moment, staring into the empty room. The silence that filled the space felt unfamiliar, yet calming. Neatly arranged wooden desks, a clean blackboard untouched by chalk, and the morning sunlight streaming through the windows cast soft shadows on the classroom floor. Everything felt so peaceful, as if the world was waiting for me to fill it with a new story.

  I took a slow breath, letting the scent of the morning air mix with the faint smell of textbooks stored in the classroom. Without rushing, I walked in and made my way to my seat—second to last row, by the window. I placed my bag on the chair and sat down, letting my body rest for a moment. My head, still filled with thoughts from last night, felt heavy, but I tried to push it aside.

  Minutes passed in a silence that was almost mesmerizing. I looked out the window, watching the leaves sway gently in the morning breeze. But soon, the sound of footsteps in the corridor began to break that stillness. One by one, students started to arrive, bringing with them laughter, small conversations, and life into the once quiet classroom. The atmosphere slowly changed—from silence to a familiar, lively buzz. I saw familiar faces—my classmates arriving with their usual morning energy, though a few still looked sleepy.

  The class gradually filled up, but everything seemed normal. Nothing strange, no signs that anything was about to happen. Conversations about homework, complaints about upcoming tests, and little stories colored the morning. Everything unfolded like any other day, as if last night had never happened.

  ***

  That morning, the classroom was bathed in soft sunlight streaming through the windows. Educational posters decorated the walls, adding charm to the already neat and orderly space. Student desks were arranged neatly, while the whiteboard at the front of the room still displayed notes from the previous day’s lesson. The murmuring voices of students chatting filled the air, creating a relaxed atmosphere before class began.

  In one corner of the room, I sat at my desk, checking the notebook I had stored beneath it. Suddenly, a classmate approached with a wide smile, holding something that sparkled under the morning light.

  “Hey, Adam, I bought this spinning top. Pretty cool, right?” He lifted the top, showing it to me. It gleamed, as if reflecting the confidence he felt.

  “It’s alright... but where’s the string?” I asked, eyeing the top with slight skepticism.

  “I’m saving it to play with during recess.” He grinned broadly, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he imagined impressing everyone later.

  “Yeah, sure.” I nodded slowly, turning my attention back to the notebook under my desk.

  From the desk next to mine, another classmate who had clearly been listening in came over, intrigued by our conversation. He leaned in and started a new thread of discussion.

  “A spinning top? Where’d you buy that? Let me see it too.” He peered over curiously, as if inspecting the top’s quality.

  “At the shop in front of the school, it was cheap. Don’t mess with it yet—I want to show off some moves later.” His tone turned a bit firm, defending his new top with enthusiasm.

  From the back of the class, another classmate chimed in, his voice slightly mocking in a teasing tone. “What moves do you even have? That top might snap in half.” He rested his chin on his hand, giving a challenging look to the classmate holding the spinning top.

  “Hey, don’t challenge me. I’ll show you my fast spin move during recess!” His eyes gleamed with confidence, imagining himself impressing everyone with his spinning top skills.

  “Fast spin move? Let’s just hope the string doesn’t go flying into someone’s head.” I leaned back in my chair, placing a few books in the corner of my desk.

  One of them asked, “Hey Adam, did you play spinning tops when you were a kid?”

  “Yeah, I did… but I wasn’t very good. Usually when I played, the string kept snapping.”

  Hearing that, he began to chuckle.

  “Haha, no wonder you asked where the string was earlier. Childhood trauma, huh...” Then he laughed out loud, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease me.

  Another one asked, “Adam, are you traumatized by spinning tops? That’s a new one.”

  His eyes sparkled with interest, as if he’d just uncovered a major secret about my weakness.

  “Hey, it’s not trauma... I just don’t want you causing trouble in class later.” I tried to respond as calmly as possible, hoping the conversation would die out on its own.

  “Alright, alright. But Adam has a point. If you cause a scene during recess, the discipline teacher’s gonna confiscate your top.” He gave his advice with a smile, though there was a slight threat behind his tone.

  “Relax, I’m a pro, okay? Just wait and see.”

  My classmate then spun the top in his hand, as if to prove his skill. His face was full of confidence, though it was clear he just wanted to win this round of teasing.

  The class returned to its usual atmosphere, with my friend still playing with his spinning top in hand, proudly showing it off as if he couldn’t wait for recess to show off even more of his skills. I leaned back in my chair, gazing out the window, imagining all the possible chaos that might unfold later.

  As I was looking out the window, Siti stood up from her seat and came over to me. “Adam, did you know? I bought new stickers yesterday.”

  I turned to face her. “Stickers? Hah, what’s so great about stickers?”

  Siti sat in the chair next to mine.

  “I bought superhero stickers, you know. All the ones you like, Adam! They’re really pretty, you know!” Siti looked proud of her new collection, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. She flipped through her phone, showing me pictures of the stickers she bought yesterday.

  “Oh, is that what you showed in the group chat? If I had to guess, those stickers wouldn’t survive the heat!” I tried teasing her, imagining the stickers fading under the hot weather. Siti smiled at my remark, but I knew she would still love her stickers no matter what.

  “Ha-ha, don’t laugh! I’m planning to stick them on my notebook. I want to make it look a bit cuter. You’d like them too, wouldn’t you?” Siti asked, trying to get my opinion. She seemed excited about decorating her notebook with her new stickers.

  “Hmm… superhero stickers? If I used them, I’d probably look like a little kid.” I shrugged with a small smile.

  Siti replied, “Eh, it doesn’t matter! Even adults can still like these things. Don’t be shy. I really love them because not many people have this collection.” She tried to convince me, bringing her phone closer to show more stickers. She was trying to show me just how unique they were.

  “Alright then, but I think I’d rather buy anime stickers. They’re better,” I suggested with a grin. I might not be into superhero stickers, but anime stickers were more in line with my taste.

  “Anime stickers? You really do love animation, huh? You better buy a lot then.” Siti giggled softly, looking at me with a playful smile. She knew I was into anime, and she seemed a bit excited by the suggestion.

  “Yeah? Who said I’m actually going to buy them? If I do, do you want to come along?” I looked at Siti with a smile. I knew she loved talking about collections, so I wanted to see how easily she could be influenced.

  “Ha! If I come along, there’s a high chance those stickers will sell out,” Siti laughed heartily, imagining the two of us buying stickers non-stop. She really enjoyed collecting new things, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she ended up falling in love with anime collections too.

  “Okay, I’ll show you where the sticker shop is later. If you’re interested, I can even buy them for you.”

  “Really? Don’t make empty promises!”

  “Yes,” Siti replied quickly.

  “Promise! But don’t stick them on my notebook, okay?”

  “Hahaha, I’ll stick them somewhere else.” Siti laughed gleefully, already imagining more interesting places to stick the stickers. She truly enjoyed planning little things that made life more fun.

  Our conversation was briefly interrupted when the teacher entered the classroom, and the atmosphere returned to calm. All eyes turned to the teacher.

  ***

  The class bell rang, and the teacher assigned to teach us arrived. My classmates had prepared a trap, just waiting for the right moment. Hearing footsteps in the school corridor, the teacher stepped into the classroom and looked at us calmly. After that, he sat in his chair and began taking attendance.

  However, when he tried to stand up, he realized something was wrong. The chair he was sitting on was stuck to his pants. He tried to steady himself by placing his hands on the desk, but the papers on the desk had also been glued. The teacher shifted left and right to free himself. Eventually, he managed to escape the trap. With a clearly frustrated expression, he said to us:

  “I thought you all wouldn’t pull a prank on me this time,” he said in a voice he tried to control. His gaze swept across the classroom, searching for at least one person willing to listen, but my classmates remained silent. Some students even seemed to be trying to suppress mocking smiles.

  Mr. Azman straightened his posture, appearing more authoritative despite the emotional wound that might have deepened. “Why do you all always prank the teachers who come to teach your class? Don’t you know we’re teaching for your future too? Think about what will happen if you fail your exams.”

  His words echoed through the class, but I could only stare at my desk. Fate isn't determined by a piece of paper, whispered a small voice in my heart, disagreeing with the teacher’s words.

  A student who often spoke boldly without thinking of the consequences began to speak, breaking the silence. “To us, studying isn’t that important,” he said with a shrug of indifference.

  The student sitting behind him added, “Even if we fail, there are still plenty of jobs out there.”

  “Yes, what’s the point of studying if we’ll just end up doing ordinary jobs when we grow up?”

  Their words slid like daggers, piercing the heart of a teacher who only wanted to see us succeed. Mr. Azman's face darkened, his eyes slightly narrowing. After taking a deep breath, he asked, “So what’s the point of coming to class if you don’t want to learn?”

  But they didn’t stop there. Someone answered in the same arrogant tone, “Of course, to waste our time.”

  The class chuckled softly, but the laughter stopped when the student sitting in the corner of the room boldly added, “Teacher, you don’t need to waste your time teaching us. It’s all pointless; we’re not going to listen and memorize everything you teach, right?”

  Each of those words felt like heavy stones thrown at Mr. Azman. His face, which had been gloomy, now turned serious, as if he were holding back anger that was about to explode. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm himself before speaking again.

  “You all think that way? So, you think our efforts as teachers are all in vain? You think your future is guaranteed without any effort?” His voice slightly rose, but it was still controlled. He stepped forward in front of the class, his gaze sharp, piercing through each of us, as if searching for something hidden deep within our hearts.

  The class was silent for a moment after Mr. Azman closed his mouth, his eyes staring at all of us with a meaningful look. His face, which had been tense, now turned serious, reflecting a mix of disappointment and hope. His breath was audible, long and heavy, as if he were trying to calm himself.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “So, you all don’t feel pity for your parents who raised you just for you to waste their time and money?” he said, his tone firm, but there was a tremor of emotion in every word. He slowly stepped to the center of the class, his gaze sweeping over each of our faces, looking for signs of repentance that might still exist.

  “What will happen if they die, and you grow up in hardship? Surely, you will do dirty jobs just to survive.” His voice grew deeper, filled with sadness that he was trying to hide.

  I began to feel the weight of his words. The phrase "dirty jobs" seemed to shake my thoughts. I couldn’t imagine, in a difficult situation, having to degrade myself just to survive.

  Mr. Azman continued, this time with a sharper tone, as if to ensure we were all truly listening. “Surely, you will steal, rob, or maybe even sell your dignity just for money.”

  Those words cut like a sharp knife, and I could see some of my classmates lowering their gaze, perhaps trying to avoid meeting our teacher’s eyes.

  He slowly walked toward the teacher’s desk before turning back to face us. “You should be grateful that you still have parents. Imagine if you didn’t have them. You’d probably be loitering on the streets doing nothing, or worse, becoming beggars who only know how to ask for money.”

  His words were met with silence. However, a student at the back of the class, known for his cynical views, spoke calmly, with a challenging tone. “If someone can survive by doing dirty work, why bother wasting time trying to achieve something new that’s impossible to reach?”

  A few other students began whispering to each other, but Mr. Azman showed no signs of wanting to stop.

  The student continued, his tone growing more cynical. “We study hard, memorize everything that’s taught, but all of that is useless in real life. It’s just a waste of time.”

  Mr. Azman’s face changed again. This time, there was a fire of passion in his eyes. He didn’t flinch; instead, he stood tall, staring at the student with complete confidence. “So, you think my time here isn’t valuable? I leave my family, spend my time and energy to make sure you get knowledge. And this is the reward I get?”

  His voice slightly rose, but it remained controlled. He held his breath, as if to let his words sink in. “You might think learning is pointless right now, but life isn’t always about what you think today. The world is full of challenges, and without knowledge, you’ll fall time and time again without knowing how to rise!”

  The class went silent again. Mr. Azman slowly stepped forward, took a deep breath, and then spoke in a softer tone.

  “Do you know why I still come here, even though you all constantly play tricks on me?” He paused for a moment, looking at each of us one by one, as if making sure we all understood. “Because I believe, one day, one of you will realize. You’ll understand that my effort is not for me, but for you. And when that day comes, you’ll remember my words. But I hope it won’t be too late.”

  Those words hung in the air. A sense of guilt began to wrap around my heart, even though I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Mr. Azman continued, his voice now filled with energy.

  “I believe, in each and every one of you, there’s great potential. You might not realize it now, but what I teach you today is for your tomorrow, not for me. If you want to keep wasting time and belittling the efforts of others, that’s your choice. But remember this: the time you waste today will become your regret someday.”

  He paused again, this time for longer. His hand wiped the sweat from his forehead, his face showing signs of fatigue, yet his spirit remained strong. He gazed out the window, as if seeking strength from the overcast sky.

  “The world doesn’t care if you’re smart or not. But the world deeply cares about who tries and who doesn’t. If you continue like this, there will only be two places for you in the future: regretting your own decisions or becoming a burden to others.”

  Those final words closed his speech like a door that was tightly shut. I lowered my gaze, staring at the desk in front of me, but my heart was in turmoil. Did I really want to be a burden? That question echoed in my mind, without a certain answer.

  We exchanged glances, silent without a word. The atmosphere in the classroom shifted to one of stillness, only the soft hum of the rotating fan could be heard. Mr. Azman's words felt like thorns piercing our hearts, reminding us of the reality we often ignored. However, some of my classmates just sat there, expressionless, as if they were not affected at all.

  Mr. Azman sighed deeply, glancing at us briefly before taking the papers on his desk. He slowly cleaned the desk, his hands moving with careful attention. Despite his stern and piercing words earlier, he now appeared calm. With caution, he picked up the white chalk and began writing something on the board. Silence enveloped the classroom, but the atmosphere felt heavy, as if his words were still hanging in the air.

  A few students began to show signs of guilt. I could see it from the way they lowered their heads, as if they didn’t want to meet Mr. Azman’s gaze. But there were also others who remained indifferent, looking out the window or busy doodling in their notebooks.

  Mr. Azman turned to face us, his gaze sharp but full of hope. He looked at us one by one, as if searching for someone who was truly listening. His voice was calmer this time, but there was an evident pressure in every word he spoke.

  “Alright, let's start with an easy question. What are your ambitions and dreams? If you don’t want to study, what kind of job would you take?”

  He waited for an answer, letting the silence hang in the classroom. Several seconds passed before the student sitting at the back spoke up, his tone sarcastic.

  “Dreams and ambitions, that's all irrelevant. We could just steal if we want. It’s not hard.”

  The remark was met with quiet laughter from a few other students. His arrogant tone added to the tension in the room. Mr. Azman furrowed his brow, but he remained standing tall at the front of the class, showing no signs of giving up.

  The student sitting in front of the sarcastic one spoke next, “That's true... what's the point of studying all this if, in the end, we become unemployed and only work regular jobs?”

  The next student nodded, adding with a tone of regret, “Even if we do get a job, the money we earn might not even be enough to live here.”

  The atmosphere grew more tense. Mr. Azman stood still, allowing them to express all their thoughts. But it was clear from his face that he was carefully organizing the words he would say next.

  “So, what are you going to do to survive? Become a thug?”

  His question was asked in a calm and firm tone. However, the student’s response came quickly, as if he had been thinking about this for a long time. “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “We hear they make money easily. Far more than working.”

  A few other students chuckled softly at the response, but some of them began to look uneasy. Another student spoke up, this time with a more casual yet sharp tone. “If it’s about making money, selling drugs is an option too. Besides, that job isn’t that hard.”

  Mr. Azman raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening slightly, but he still maintained his composure. “Do you know the consequences that will come with that?” he asked, trying to stir some awareness in them.

  However, the students’ responses were shocking. “No… but it’s still better than learning useless things,” said one with a cold expression.

  “We still don’t want to study…”

  “Yeah, that’s right…”

  Mr. Azman stood still, his eyes staring at them sharply. The room felt increasingly hotter, even though the ceiling fan kept spinning. I could sense the rising tension in the air. Their words, though harsh, seemed to awaken something inside our teacher. And I could only sit frozen, feeling a mix of guilt and fear about the future they imagined.

  The classroom was tense. The hum of the slowly rotating fan echoed in the silence, carrying the weight of every word our classmates had spoken. Mr. Azman’s expression remained calm, but his eyes held a thousand emotions—disappointment, anger, and a trace of sorrow.

  He stopped writing on the whiteboard and turned to face us. His gaze was sharp—not to intimidate, but to reach our hardened hearts. With slow steps, he walked to the front of the class. His voice was low, but heavy with meaning.

  “You all think it’s easy to be a gangster? To sell drugs? To steal? You think that’s the solution?”

  He paused, waiting for a response that never came. We exchanged glances, but no one dared to speak. Eventually, one student, known for his cynical attitude, finally responded in an indifferent tone.

  “Yeah, we think so. If it gets us money fast, then why not?”

  Some classmates chuckled quietly, but the laughter was hollow, lacking any real spirit. It felt like they were trying to mask the guilt growing inside them. Mr. Azman took a deep breath, then looked at the student with eyes full of meaning.

  “Maybe it feels like the easy path right now. But believe me, every step in life comes with consequences. If you choose that road, you’re not only destroying your own life—you’re dragging down the lives of others. The people you love, if there's anyone you still care about.”

  His words lingered in the air. The classroom fell silent again. I began to feel tight in the chest, like something heavy was pressing down on me. Mr. Azman continued, this time in a gentler tone.

  “You know, I’ve seen with my own eyes what happens to those who go down that path. Some were arrested, beaten, imprisoned. Some—worse—lost their lives. And do you know what hurts the most? Watching their parents cry, asking themselves what they did wrong for their children to choose such a life.”

  Several students lowered their heads, including me. His words felt like an invisible slap. Yet some, still wearing their pride, remained unmoved.

  “But, sir, life is hard,” one of them said with a bitter tone. “Sometimes, the wrong path is the only one we have.”

  Mr. Azman gave a faint smile. He shook his head slowly.

  “Life is hard, yes—but that’s not a reason to give up. You think I never had it hard? I’ve worked washing dishes, lived on nothing but rice and soy sauce. But I didn’t give up. I studied, even when it felt impossible. Because I believed—if we try, there will be a way.”

  The class fell silent again. This time, the atmosphere was different—there was a heavy tension, but also a warmth from the hope our teacher was trying to offer.

  “If you choose not to learn, that’s your decision. I can’t force you. But remember this: every choice has consequences. The decisions you make today will determine who you become tomorrow. So think carefully.”

  He returned to the teacher’s desk, picked up his pen, and resumed writing on the whiteboard. But this time, no one dared to speak. Everyone stayed quiet, reflecting on his words—including me. Mr. Azman's words didn’t just echo in my ears—they struck deep into my heart. Would I regret the choices I make today?

  Mr. Azman stood upright, his gaze sharp, and his firm voice echoed once more through the classroom. “Listen. Right now, you may think tomorrow doesn’t matter. But when you grow older, you’ll realize yesterday was everything. What I’m saying is—think carefully about your dreams. Everything we have today exists because thousands before us studied and transformed knowledge into miracles. Without knowledge, there would be no technology. Everything was built by those before us. That’s why work matters. Unless you’re foolish enough to join the gangs out there doing dirty work.”

  His words felt like knives stabbing into my heart, slicing through every emotion I tried to hide. I held back, pressing my lips tightly together. Siti, who sat beside me, also started to feel angry—but she maintained a calm expression, trying to suppress the swirl of emotions inside her. Still, her eyes sparkled sharply, showing she wasn’t unaffected.

  They began to speak up again, protesting Mr. Azman’s words.

  “What’s the point of studying so much if we end up with regular jobs anyway? It’s a waste of time and energy.”

  “Exactly. It’s easier to sell drugs—no license needed, no dealing with government agencies. But if you want to sell rice, you need a license. To sell gas—license. Sugar, oil, flour—everything needs a license. And applying for one is a headache—you have to deal with all kinds of bureaucracy from multiple agencies. Sometimes, it feels like it’s better to be a foreigner living in this country.”

  The tension in the classroom thickened, like two opposing sides ready to clash. Mr. Azman lifted his head, scanning each of them with a piercing gaze. His firm voice barked again, “Do you know that selling drugs is dirty money?”

  “Yes, but what choice do we have when we’re desperate? That’s the only way.”

  I, sitting calmly, cut into the conversation. “Teacher, do you know that around 70% of people who graduate from university don’t work in the field they studied? So what’s the point of all that?”

  “You mean in this country?”

  I sighed, still leaning back in my chair with a relaxed yet confident posture. Both my legs were up on the desk, exuding the aura of a leader ready for a duel. “No, that’s a global statistic. But our country’s situation isn’t much different. Our education system is too focused on theory and lacks connection to real life. So, in the end, many stray far from their fields.”

  The class fell silent for a moment. All eyes were on me now, as if I were a king in a debate arena.

  I continued, “So what’s the use of an education system if, in the end, many end up far from what they studied? If this game no longer helps the players to win, what’s the point of playing at all?”

  Once again, silence filled the room. Everyone’s gaze remained fixed on me, as though they were now seeing the world through a different lens. Each word struck something deeper—something that couldn’t be easily answered.

  Mr. Azman opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, I continued, my voice now deeper and more resolute.

  “Teacher, I know what I’m saying might sound harsh. But the reality is, many out there are forced to choose the wrong path, not because they want to, but because the system leaves them with no other choice. If there’s no reform, this problem will keep repeating.”

  His words made the other students pause, deep in thought. Even Mr. Azman, who was usually so strict, went silent, reconsidering his views. I, with my calm demeanor, had sparked a wave of reflection that made everyone in the room question not just the system, but themselves as well.

  This time, I continued, my tone more passionate and filled with awareness. “So because of this messed-up system that values exams and marks over real-world applications, it makes students lazy to learn. Besides, the subjects we study will likely be forgotten in the future, except for the basic things that really matter.”

  I paused for a moment before continuing, “So, that's why many choose the easy path to survive, by selling illegal drugs. On top of that, further education requires a lot of money. The government should offer support, but what I observe in our country is that it's all silenced. Only elite schools and prestigious academies can help, but they only accept those who qualify, leaving the less fortunate with no choice but to take the wrong path to survive. So, in conclusion, what’s the point of us studying when our future is still uncertain? A piece of paper won’t change our fate.”

  Someone echoed what I had said, “What Adam said is true. A friend of mine, who didn’t have money for school, ended up struggling through life, selling drugs, and he made far more money than a teacher’s salary.”

  The classroom fell silent for a moment, with mixed emotions on everyone’s face. They gave Mr. Azman time to think, and eventually, he spoke.

  “So, you believe selling drugs is an easy job and it brings in a lot of profit? Do you understand the risks involved in what they’re doing?”

  “All things come with risk, but we’re sticking to our stance.”

  “Right, but we don’t want to become teachers with low salaries. Besides, the exam scores we get won’t change our future salary. So, enough with the jokes. Our pay will stay the same, and this is the reality for everyone.”

  Mr. Azman stood tall, his face slightly changed. His voice became firm again, though there was a trace of fatigue on his face. “Alright, it depends on your efforts. If you all put in more effort, then you'll get more and have a comfortable job. But if you're lazy and just fool around in life, you’re the one who will lose, and in the end, you'll regret it and be stuck with a low salary job. It’s all up to your choice. And remember, drugs will harm you and only pull you further away from working.”

  A student sitting in the back lifted his head and added, “It’s easy for you to say, Mr. Azman, as if you know what our life is like. We’re struggling even to eat, and the cost of living here is high. They make money easily, and in large amounts. It’s not like we want to consume it; we just sell it and make a profit.”

  Mr. Azman sighed softly, his eyes focused on the desk, as though contemplating deeply. “Life is about choices. If you choose not to study, that’s your decision. But don’t blame anyone if you fail to get the life you’ve dreamed of. The choice is in your hands. I’m just a teacher trying to help, not to force you.”

  Mr. Azman took a deep breath, then looked at each student in the class. “Alright, the day after tomorrow, I have a surprise for you all related to our topic. If you don’t want to come to school tomorrow, that’s up to you. But for the next two days, make sure everyone shows up.”

  With slow steps, Mr. Azman packed up his belongings. The classroom grew quieter, the only sound now was the faint echo of his footsteps as he moved away. The other students exchanged glances, unsure of how to react. Confusion was written on their faces. Some were silent, some scratched their heads, and some sighed, but they all remained trapped in the same state of uncertainty.

  Yet, deep inside, I knew there was truth in Mr. Azman's words. Perhaps it was time to reconsider the choices I had made in my life so far. I realized there was something bigger than just taking the easy way out. There was a price to be paid, and I still didn’t know if I was strong enough to face it.

  I gazed out of the classroom window, the gentle breeze flowing in. My thoughts wandered far, recalling Mr. Azman’s words. This world wasn’t just black and white. There were many choices, many paths to take. Maybe I wouldn’t succeed today, but was there still a chance for me tomorrow?

  ***

  After Mr. Azman uttered his final words, our class seemed to pause for a moment. All the students looked at each other, exchanging glances filled with doubt and confusion. Some remained stubborn in their views, while others appeared deeply affected by the words Mr. Azman had just spoken.

  In the back corner of the room, I sat quietly, yet my thoughts were turbulent. I couldn’t deny that there was some truth in what Mr. Azman had said, even though his delivery was harsh. I knew their lives weren’t as simple as they appeared, and the paths they had chosen were often fraught with challenges. But had they strayed too far to turn back?

  As usual, Siti remained calm, concealing the anger and confusion that churned inside her. Though her expression was cold, her heart was far from fragile. She understood that their situation wasn’t as simple as Mr. Azman made it seem. The education system and the limited opportunities available couldn’t be solved with mere words of motivation.

  The other students weren’t any less conflicted. They seemed to cling to their beliefs, convinced that the easy life of quick wealth was the more practical route. It was as if they had lost faith in the system, seeing the world through lenses colored by their own disillusionment and frustration with the inequities they faced.

  However, what caught my attention more was the change in some of the students. Despite their belief that the system was full of flaws, there was a small spark within them demanding answers. Mr. Azman might not have provided easy solutions, but he challenged us to reflect on our future. His words slapped us with a reality that could no longer be ignored — every choice comes with consequences.

  The class finally ended. Each student left with different emotions tucked away in their hearts. As usual, I walked out with my usual casual demeanor, but in my mind, the waves of thought kept swirling relentlessly. As someone who had never feared going against the current, I knew that the path I would choose wouldn’t be easy. But maybe, just maybe, the time for change had arrived.

  Siti, walking behind me, glanced in my direction, realizing that even though I appeared indifferent, I was actually deep in thought. Siti didn’t say anything, but she also knew that both of us had to make a bigger decision—not just for ourselves, but also for our future and the people we care about.Mr. Azman, who had already left the classroom, left a huge question mark in the heart of every student. The surprise he promised in the next two days had us all wondering what he was about to reveal. Would it change the way we saw life?

  Mr. Azman, who had already left the classroom, left a huge question mark in the heart of every student. The surprise he promised in the next two days had us all wondering what he was about to reveal. Would it change the way we saw life?

  For me, the future was still unclear, but one thing was certain — I didn’t want to be trapped in a system that restricted freedom and dreams. I was determined to find a more meaningful path, even if that path was full of difficult twists and turns. That surprise might just be the starting point for a bigger change in our lives, but what choices would we make? That was still a mystery.

  However, one thing was inevitable — we had to make a choice, and that choice would determine our future.