I am unoriginal when it comes to names, but hey at least I can start working on Broken Arrow now! (I am very excited and ready to see y'all's reactions)
“Good Morning class and happy Wednesday,” Owen spun around back from the holo board. “So, I’ve got a few choices for the school trip over Fall Break.”
A mixture of unease, quiet noises came from the lecture hall full of high school students, “Ok, you have three choices you can vote on for the trip. Number one, we can go to Lunar Base on the moon.”
A series of contemplating whispers rippled through the crowd and a few hands were raised, “No we’re not voting now, besides you haven’t heard the other choices,” Owen said with a chuckle. The hands fell.
“Number two, we could go to the Helios Shipyards and museum,” more whispers rippled through the crowd.
“And number three, we could go to the old United States Air Force Academy in North America,” A few seconds of quiet went by before a hundred voices piped up. Owen patiently waited for the students to quiet down. “Ok then, let's have a vote shall we? All in favor of option one, Lunar Base, raise your hand.”
A few hands shot up and Owen tallied the hands, “Alright, all in favor of option two, Helios Ship Yards, raise your hand.”
Again, a few hands shot up and Owen tallied, “And last but not least, all in favor of option three, the US Air Force Academy, raise your…oh, ok then looks like Air Force Academy it is.”
The next week…
“Arriving at Colorado Springs terminal, please remain seated until the train has come to a full stop,” announced a robotic voice. Owen and his students sat in the passenger car lining the falls.
“So teach, are we going to have to do anything for the trip?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do we have to do any work sheets?”
“Yes, but it’s simple, and you shouldn't have any problems completing it,” The student groaned and sat back in their seat. “I know, I know, but I don’t have a say in this one.”
Within a few moments the train came to a stop in a station. Owen stood up and stretched his back, “Alright ladies and gentlemen let's get going.” The small group of about forty students walked onto the train station platform before regrouping. “Ok, the Academy Museum is only a ten minute walk from here, once we get there I’ll hand out worksheets. Yes, yes, I know it’s not something you want to do, however the school requires me to give you some form of assignment to work on. But first, we need a headcount to make sure we didn’t leave anyone on the train.”
After a very quick roll call, the group made their way to the old United States Air Force Academy. On the way there, Owen stopped by many statues and sculptures of pilots and aircraft that lined the paved walkway. He stopped in front of one, it was of a man in uniform saluting the world with a smile, the fresh smell of metal work still hung in the air. At the base of the statue was a carbon black plaque with silver writing reading;
“Lieutenant Commander Ari Kean
Silver Arrow 1
Phoenix
In honor of the Phoenix Ace by the GHR admiralty office in Washington D.C., North America, for destroying one cruiser, two frigates, one corvette, and damaging multiple other Federation warships during the Battle of the Kepler System”
Owen stood there for a moment, “Mr. Owen? Are you ok?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, just a man my father talked about.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father served on the USS Chuck Yeager as the weapons officer, he knew this man, Ari Kean, and would often tell me stories of battles. But that’s all for another day, right now we need to get signed in,” the group walked up to a window.
A man in an air force service uniform sat at a desk typing away on his laptop, “Hello, Olrick Owen with Winston High School.”
The man looked up, “Yes, please go through the door and wait there. I’ll radio for them to send a security team down to get you situated.”
The man grabbed his radio, “Thank you very much,” Owen said before turning to his students. “Alright ladies and gentlemen, let's head inside.”
The group walked through the glass doors into a massive hall. An AI appeared in front of them, “Well hi there, I am JA/59-2, military Museum Archival unit, but you can just call me Jay. Please take a seat and make yourselves comfortable, a security team is on its way.” The AI was a meter and a half tall with tiger orange hair. It wore dark blue jeans with leather work boots and a tucked in, red and black flannel shirt.
“Ok, thank you,” Owen turned to his students. “Alright students, let me hand out your worksheets.”
The students groaned and threw their hands up as Owen handed out the worksheets, “Worksheets on a trip? That’s just messed up.”
“You act like I have a say in this, but all of this is pretty self explanatory and easy. Find ten aircraft, aviators, or any inventors or innovators and answer the questions on the paper, plain and simple,” Owen said, simply. “If you need any pencils then ask me.”
Minutes dragged by as the group waited for the security team. Owen pulled a book out of his bag and began reading. After a while he heard loud footsteps coming down the hall. Owen looked up to see twenty soldiers wearing navy blue uniforms and black riot armor.
Shock batons, tassers, hand guns, and handcuffs on their belts, some carried briefcases while others carried nothing at all. One walked up to Owen and stopped, “Are you Orick Owen?”
“Yes, I am. Are you the security team we were told about?”
“Yes,” the guard gestured to the rest of his team. The few with briefcases stepped forward and set to work. Minutes later the group of students and Owen had ID’s around their necks. “These will tell any other guard teams that you’re supposed to be here and should keep you from getting harassed. Alright you’re all good to go, enjoy the museum.”
The guard spun on his heel and walked away with the security team in tow. Owen looked to his students, “Well then, where should we start first?” The students looked at each other while no one said a word. “Oh, I know, let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Good ol’ World War I?”
The slow, lumbering buzzed above the fields. Hundreds of open miles of fields stretched on.
In the distance, Justin could see a small city skyline.
“Now isn’t this a sight? The Martin MB-1, or the first American bomber. Look at this beauty, 400 horsepower and carrying 2000 lbs of ordinance, Above them was a shrunken down bi-plain with long wings and a short, thin tail. “Oh look, they even have an excerpt of one of the pilots.”
The ice cold wind whipped, making Justin shiver uncontrollably in their open cockpit.
A bullet whistled by, hitting the wing with a thunk. Another hit the wing, then another, then another.
Almost instantly it was a storm of bullets all around them, and yet they pressed on.
“Bandits!” a tail gunner screamed. Justin looked back seeing six Fokker Eindeckers in a dive.
The machine guns sounded with a deafening drumming.
Justin looked forward, keeping his eyes on the city below.
The Fokkers respond by strifing the bomber. They dived down past the hole riddled bomber.
They were now over the city, “Drop the bombs!” Justin called.
“Truly fascinating,” Owen said. “This was one of the first bombers created. Set the standard for bombers to have multiple machiene guns to deffend itself, and to have escorts.”
The students looked at the model hanging above them in front of a black and white backdrop. Owen stared up at the ancient war plane before moving on.
“Teach, we’re not just going to look at ancient war planes are we?” A student asked.
“No, no, we’ll look at some inventors and aviators and we’ll even go through some simulations throughout the generations.”
The buzz of piston engines filled the air. Minutes later two planes sped down a runway and leapt into the air.
The lead plane pulled up towards the sky climbing higher and higher.
Owen stopped in front of another plane suspended in the air and banking right, “Ah yes, the T-6 Texan. Quite an intricate little training craft.”
“Training craft?”
“Yep, it was used from the 1930s till the 1990s when it was decommissioned. One thousand horsepower and no guns,” Jay said, casually walking up to the group. “It was used to train quite a few generations of fighter pilots, but of course became obsolete. Should have been sooner in my opinion.”
“Yes, very true.”
“Alright newbie, let's see what you got,” said Trevor’s instructor. “Attack your wingman.”
Trevor flew up into the clouds, disappearing from sight before slowly maneuvering behind where his wingman was supposed to be.
He waited for several seconds for some kind of action from the pilot but saw nothing.
This worried him as he stalked his wingman when suddenly it flew right through the cloud in front of him.
He instinctively pulled back on the stick and pushed his throttle forward. He broke through the cloud to see his wingman flipping around and behind him.
He banked left and dove back into the cloud hoping his wingman would follow. Trevor looked back, “That cleaver…”
“LOOK OUT!”
Trevor’s head snapped straight looking at the fast approaching ground.
“Pull up! Pull up you fool!” his instructor barked.
Pulling back on the stick, Trevor pulled his plane out of the dive and back on level flight. He tried to catch his breath and look for his wingman’s plane just to see it fall behind him.
He pulled back on the stick as he tried to break away and banking right and left but his wingman refused to break chase.
He began spinning and banking right, and so did his wingman. Then Trevor fell into a dive before pulling back and launching himself upward towards the sky.
“That’s enough, return to base,” his instructor ordered. “You failed, report to my office as soon as we get back.”
“Fascinating, multiple stories like this exist, and this was how so many pilots came to be,” Owen stated.
“Yes, it’s how so many pilots came to be now. Most of our aces were almost born to fly, take the Phoenix Ace, he came to the academy never even touching an aircraft and left the top of his class.”
One of the students groaned loudly, “When are we going to go to the simulations? I want to shoot stuff and blow up things!”
“Settle down, we’ll get to it eventually,” Owen said walking on to the next plane. “But don’t you want to hear about the P-51 Mustang?”
“Bandits! Jets coming in from above!” Screamed a pilot.
Al flew past the B-17 he was escorting and stopped in front and above the bomber.
Al looked down at the bombs raining down on the factories causing plums of smoke to rise from the burning buildings.
“It’s an old plane! Who cares?”
“We do, it's a part of history.”
“It’s just old stuff that has no relevance to us now!”
“I beg to differ. If there was no aircraft ever created, then I doubt we would have ever gotten to the space age leaving humanity woefully behind in technology.”
The student scoffed and folded his arms across his chest.
Al pulled his plane into a climb after the ME-262’s, “All escorts, engage and destroy the bandits!” he ordered.
Al saw a jet in a dive, falling towards him at an insane speed. It let loose a burst of bullets tearing not into Al’s plane, but the bomber he was escorting.
The jet sped past Al causing him to flip into a dive after the German jet.
He locked onto the jet and fired. Almost instantly the jet broke off onto level flight.
Al knew something was off, it was known the German jets had poor climbing capabilities. Then he saw it, directly behind him and just above him.
He pulled back into a climb and banked left watching the jet follow him though the mirror.
Al weaved up and down, and side to side in a failing effort to break away from the jet.
He pushed his plane into a dive and looked back. The jet followed him, staying on his tail. For a heart stopping moment, Al could see the enemy pilot’s face right as he fired.
“Now don’t be like that, this is a marvel of engineering! All of these are,”Owen stated gesturing to the line of exhibits.
“Think of it like evolution, you start off with the literal sticks and stones and move onto the nuclear engines and jets that fly in space,” Jay said, pointing down the seemingly endless line of aircraft.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, take this, the B-29 “Superfortress”, the long range strategic bomber. Four engines producing 2,200 horsepower each,” Owen said with his hands on his hips, looking up at the model bomber. “Did you know, it was one of these bombers that dropped the first nuclear bomb on Hiroshima in World War Two?”
Hundreds of soldiers rushed back and forth as they preped a lone bomber sitting over an oddly designed loading bay.
Teams of Military Police stood by, rifles ready, guarding the bomber.
“Aren’t nuclear weapons banned by the GHR?”
“Yes, but this was the first nuclear bomb made. Actually no one had an idea of what it would do. Anyways the bomb created a lot of controversy with the people who created it and the military and gocernment,” Owen informed. “And eventually the pilots as well.”
Paul looked out the cockpit windows seeing the rising sun. The bomber slowly flew over the island of Japan below.
“Think there are any interceptors waiting for us?”
“I would hope not, but knowing the japs…” Paul let his voice trail off.
The flight continued for a few silent minute as the bomber slowly approched it’s target.
“Approaching target, get ready to drop the bomb,” Paul called back to his bomber.
They waited for several minutes, the tension growing in the cramped bomber until they were over their target.
“Bomb dropped!” the bomber called.
The crew waited several seconds before a blinding light came from behind the bomber. Paul banked right and listened to his massive plane creak.
He looked out his copilot’s window and saw a massive black cloud, seemingly folding in on itself.
They stared at the cloud, “My God, what have we done?”
“The first nuclear weapons forced the Japanese to surrender at the end of World War Two. An inhumane end to be sure, but still an end,” Owen said looking at the picture of a nuclear blast.
“Why would anyone create a weapon like that?” A student asked.
Owen shrugged, “Humans always strive for more powerful weapons.”
There was a brief silence as the group stared at the plane, “I think it would be fair to say Humans are always pushing for better technology, take the X-1 for example,” Jay said, walking over to another exhibit.
“Ah yes, the Bell X-1. The experimental jet, designed to break the sound barrier and fly faster than sound. Actually it was designed after a bullet,” Owen said, walking up next to the AI.
“System check…everything is green,” Michael said. “Runway clear, ready for take off.”
Michael looked down at the almost pure white jet against the blackened air strip.
“Now students, we’ve talked about the man who piloted this jet, can anyone tell me who it was?” Owen looked around at his students. “We just went over this.”
“Chuck Yeager?”
Owen snapped his fingers and pointed at the student, “Yes.”
“Alright Captain, you are clear to launch.”
A minute later the jet was sped down the runway and leapt up into the air.
“Captain, altitude restrictions are lifted, happy flying,” Michael watched the jet pull into an almost vertical climb. “Get a feel for the aircraft and after five minutes we’ll start testing.”
The jet flipped and dived through the air, “All systems nominal, we’re ready to start testing,” A scientist called over the radio.
“Copy,” Michael picked up another radio. “Captain, we’re ready to start testing, go ahead and get back on level flight and wait for further orders.”
The control tower filled with the jet engine roars as the jet roared overhead. Minutes passed by as the scientists walked around with clipboards of working on the versus equipment in the room.
A man with glasses walked up to Michael, “May I speak to the Captain?”
“Yes of course. Here, the transmit button is on the side,” Michael said, giving the man the radio.
“Alright Captain, since you have an idea of the jet's controls, let's start testing shall we? First we want to see the top speed, can you fly due north and come back on a straight path at top speed?”
Michael watched the aircraft fly away from the control tower, bank right, and fly closer. At first Michael didn’t hear anything, nor did he in the minutes that seemed to drag by as the aircraft approached.
He took off his headphones and listened, only hearing the silent chattering and noise in the control tower. He waited and watched the jet fly closer, growing more curious and worried as it got closer.
Then when the jet was almost past them it hit, the whole tower shook and the world sounded like it exploded, and for a moment, Michael thought it did.
“The first supersonic flight was in 1947 by this guy, Chuck Yeager,” Jay said, pointing to the picture of a man in a pilot's uniform leaning against a jet.
“Yes, a very momentous occasion for Humanity, when we broke the speed of sound. We never had another moment like it until early 2298 when Explorer broke the speed of light on flight to Alpha Centauri,” Owen said, looking over his shoulder at his students.
“Will we look at an FTL capable jets?”
“Yes, but not right now.”
“What about reconnaissance aircraft at all?”
The black plane lumbered in the sky, its long thin wings erected from the sides of its fuselage.
Thousands of feet below lay a series of nuclear launch sites.
“Oh, you want recon aircraft, hmm?” Jay asked enthusiastically. “Then look at this one, the U-2 spy plane. The planes that found out about the nuclear missiles in Cuba that led to the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Thunk Thunk
Thunk Thunk
Major Anderson listened to his camera traverse the land below. It was a long and complicated task.
Anderson was skimming the very edge of space, he knew it. He could see the stars above him.
The plane was fragile and albeit new, seemed old to Anderson. He sat awkwardly in his cockpit and his suit. He was wearing a white, pressurized suit. Anderson found it difficult to move or control his plane with the big gloves on his hand.
Suddenly an alarm went off, a missile was flying straight for him. He banked right in an effort to evade the missile while his plane creaked in protest. He waited and held his breath.
WHAM
Shrapnel ripped into the cockpit, Anderson’s face plate shattered, and then, depressurized silence.
“The U-2 was made during the Cold War, obviously, when else would we make a camera that can take a picture of you and see the stains on your shirt?” Jay said in an amused tone.
“Hold on, it could really see that?” a student asked in disbelief.
“Pretty much,” Owen replied, casually. “Cameras now can detect microscopic organisms from space, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“I'm assuming this escalated the Cold War?”
“Yes, I won’t say this exact event led to the Vietnam War but the Cuban Missile Crisis sure did, at least for the Americans.”
Lieutenant Charles flew in formation with multiple other F-4 Phantoms. The air inside his cockpit was tense as he watched the clouds for enemy interceptors.
He waits and waits, watching for any change, until a pair of MiG-21’s leap out of the clouds.
They walk up to another exhibit, an olive green fighter jet sat on the ground with a simulated air base as a backdrop, “F-4 Phantoms were used during the Vietnam war against MiG-21s. They were deadly in air to air combat and could easily take down the MiGs,” Owen stated.
Charles flew in pursuit after one of the MiGs. He punched his throttle forward and sped after the MiG.
The enemy fighter broke left leaving Charles to tilt and pull back on the stick.
Multiple other MiGs broke through the clouds at randomized points throwing the Phantoms into pursuit.
Charles stuck on his enemy like glue as it tried to weave from side to side. He growed as the targeting system failed to lock on to the elusive MiG. Charles found himself with no other option than to roll and perfectly align himself with the MiG.
For a second he had a lock and launched a missile off. He waited and watched the missile fly through the air and into the MiG’s engine.
Charles let out a whoop before going on the hunt for another MiG. He found one in a tight turn above him and pulled back on the stick. He climbed after the MiG and watched it fall into a dive.
Charles rolled and flipped onto the MiG’s tail and locked onto it. The MiG pulled into another climb causing Charles to curse at it and pull into a climb. He watched the MiG flip into another dive as he got another lock on the jet. Chales lowered his speed and increased the distance between them.
The MiG pulled back into another climb and Charles pulled back almost instantly. He locked on and fired the missile soaring through the air, impacting the MiG and exploding.
A student crossed his arms and began tapping his foot, “Ok that’s cool and all but can we go eat something? I know I’m hungry.”
“Yes of course, but let me end this little section with this; Aviation was always a dream for Humanity and to not only pass such a milestone, but to pass other milestones as well in such a short amount of time is incredible. Humanity is always advancing, and while you may be annoyed at all the stuff we put on you in your classes, it only gets you ready for the world and to be the next innovators,” Owen announced, gesturing to the line of aircraft. “Anyways, let’s go get some food, I'm starving too.”

First of all, lurking here has been.. enlightening. Thank you all for the sacrifices you make, please know it’s truly appreciated. While I hope some of the more extreme stories about parents I read on here are just that - extreme and not the norm - I can’t help but think it’s all too often a little too close to reality. I’d say we all just want what’s best for our kids, but I think we all know some people really are just the worst!
Some of the stories about kids are.. wild.
I’m hoping to get some educators perspectives on something my partner and I are thinking about. Nothing is final, no decisions have been made, and I welcome any and all input!
We have two kids, almost 6 and almost 4. This question is about the older. He is in kindergarten currently, and while there are good days, what we see on our end is a kid who went into kindergarten loving learning, and we worry that spark is slowly being dulled. He went from asking us to write out math and spelling ‘worksheets’ by hand to dreading school and avoiding some formerly favorite ‘academic’ past times.
One of the notes his teacher pointed out - I don’t think negatively, I took it more as informative - was that when he finished his math worksheets, instead of doing another more challenging one while the rest of the class finishes up, he wants to color. Insisting he do another worksheet instead can lead to him being upset (which we don’t have an issue with, either his teacher encouraging him to do additional more challenging work, or that he sometimes gets upset about it. He’s 5, he gets upset about a lot of stuff).
Our fear is that, not just allowing him to finish his worksheet then do his own thing quietly for a bit, but giving him another, harder worksheet, is going to a) teach him to just slow down on the original worksheet, and b) hinder his love of learning generally. This instance in and of itself is no big deal, but it’s an example of the larger issue we’re starting to question. We are not super concerned about academics at this point, we feel playing and learning how to be a person should be his priority at the moment (I know we are likely in the minority of parents in that regard).
I know no one is at their best right now, and his teachers have been either fine, or great. My partner and I are also just a little crunchy/hippy dippy, and we worry public school might not be the best for him.
One of the alternatives that I keep coming back to is pretty out-there, and it’s this I’m hoping to get your opinions on.
It’s a basically totally self-directed learning, and leaning into that hard. The place we are looking at has about 70 kids of all ages, who all have access to the space from 9-5 on their days (2-5 per week). There are staff who are knowledgeable in a range of subjects, but mostly they are there to help the kids learn how to find answers on their own. There are occasional (optional of course) ‘classes’, basically if someone wants to learn about a particular thing (could literally be anything) and the best way to teach either all or part of it is in a classroom setting, there is a separate room with a whiteboard etc. that this happens in. Anything from math/science type things to football plays to art, anything.
There are some computers the school provides access to (pretty nice ones I think but I’m no expert, Apple desktops) where the kids can look things up; they are not for video games/you tube (unless it’s related to what you’re working on) etc. There is a very well equipped music room, a well stocked art room, books, plus lots of stuff outdoors - trails, fields, one of the teachers takes the older kids ‘bouldering’ on some of the nearby rocks - lots to do. On one visit they had built en evaporator, and were in the process of boiling maple sap they collected from tapping some of the sugar maples on the property to do a pancake lunch with homemade syrup the following week (trying not to let the whimsy-while-still-learning of that cloud my judgement, but it was pretty cool).
This feels like a way healthier environment for him, at least for the time being. Are we insane?!?
Some things to note:
He doesn’t have a phone or tablet or anything, but a lot of the kids there do. One concern of ours is that he would just stare at his phone all day once he does have one. While there were some tweens/teens looking at their phones/devices while we visited, the vast majority were engaged with their peers, or working on some sort of project. But when I say they lean into being ‘self directed’ hard, I mean if a kid were to flop in a corner and watch (appropriate) movies with headphones on all day, they could. So if/when he does have a device this is concerning. (One rule is all screens need to be easily visible, and ‘appropriate’ is determined case-by-case)
A lot of the rules there are general - you need to be ‘respectful’ of others, yourself, the space, etc. is most of it.
Ages are 5-17, with the bulk being 7-12.
We (of course) take the safety and security of our children very seriously. We are going to continue to dig down on this, but we have spent probably 6 hours or so there now, and between observing, having policies explained, and asking questions, you can assume we feel fairly comfortable in that regard. But please ask any questions or let me know what to look focheck about here!!
This is not a technical ‘school’, he would be technically ‘homeschooled’. Our thought was to do what would be his first grade year there for four days a week, then a day either home or at the library with my partner (who is a stay-at-home parent currently and for the foreseeable future, such as it is in 2022). This would still be self-directed, but with some more focus. Our quote has been ‘it doesn’t matter what he’s learning about, but he does need to be learning’ when we’ve talked about it. We are thinking this would turn into something more along the lines of an academic tutor, or maybe he goes to the ‘school’ 3 days and does a tutor day and another day for something else - karate, art, dance, idk.
Our gut says that should we go this route, he would likely age out of it as a teen or pre-teen, and we would need to regroup on middle or high school. Our hope is that if at this point we decide public school is the route to go we could take 6-12 months doing tutoring and/or lessons to catch him up academically. Unsure if this is a realistic thought or not!
We don’t have a ton of money, but do ok. This would entail moving to a smaller house with a cheaper mortgage to be possible, especially for it to be an option for his younger sibling. We have been in our current home for eight years, and don’t love it, so moving has been on the table for years. We bought - literally - the cheapest house in a good school district and have been working on it as we’ve been able over the years, but staying and paying both the high mortgage and high local taxes to not take advantage of the public schools is not ideal, likely not even financially possible. We would after moving be able to put him in a montessori or similar elementary school as a backup.
Please don’t take this as an indictment of public schools generally, we know we are outside of the majority here, we are just hoping to find the best fit for our kid!
So back to my earlier question: are we crazy for considering this? It’s so drastically different from what most kids do, but we hope that this would translate to him being a more well-rounded and socially competent older kid. We are keeping regrouping on the table at all times, and are willing to take it as it comes. We just feel - especially at this age, and for at least the next few years - it’s better for him to have autonomy, to figure himself out, figure the world out, figure out what he likes and doesn’t, and how to deal with other people generally, before focusing too much on academics.
He would do one full week there at the end of this school year before we make any final decisions.
So there it is teachers, if you’ve made it this far I so appreciate you taking the time, and I truly welcome all comments - if you think this is insane let me know!! I will try to answer any questions anyone asks, and thank you again for your time and input!!!
(And please don’t judge my writing too harshly, you have no idea how much pressure I feel posting in a teacher sub!! 😬😅)

Original:
Hello, relationships. This is long, so thanks to any who plow through it.
Recently I got a really hurtful message from my oldest sister, and I'm not sure how to take it. I'll start with some background and context, then paste the email. Names and personal details have been altered to obscure identities.
I'm the youngest of three children. My two older sisters are both stay-at-home mothers. My oldest sister and I have never been particularly close. Since she's had kids, she has seemed to like and respect me less and less. A few times over the years I've heard of something pretty nasty and insulting Oldest Sister has said about me, behind my back. It got a lot worse a few years ago after our dad died, when she seemed to transfer the issues she had with her dad to me.
I always knew I didn't want children of my own, and instead have focused on my academics and career. I have a bachelor's, master's, and a law degree. I do not practice law, but my master's and JD are a combination in a niche field that requires both. I don't want to get too specific because the field is small, but my most recent full-time position included developing and teaching continuing education classes for law school students, attorneys, and judges. These classes are more like focused weekend seminars than the kind of term-long, graded classes you get in school. The judges and attorneys need to take a certain number of classes per year to keep their licenses.
Anyway about a year ago a number of external stresses snowballed to the point of my developing severe, crippling depression. Along with some other less painful things, several people I loved died within a short time period. I'd recently relocated several thousand miles away from friends and family, and didn't have any real support network.
And I stumbled, hard. I could barely get out of bed, and regularly spent hours on end just sitting around weeping. I sought medical care and counseling, was put on meds and started therapy. It helped me regain some basic level of functioning, but I found myself no longer able to perform my job adequately. I wound up moving back home with mom, hoping the proximity to family and friends would help me heal and regroup.
Anyway my home town is a small, rural place with no call for my specialty. I wasn't licensed to practice law in that state, and the best work I could come across was being a substitute teacher for a handful of public schools in my region.
I thought I was doing a great job, tbh. I loved working with the kids at all levels. I went to one of those schools, and I felt like I was giving something back to the community. I knew a few of the other teachers and administration from going to the same school together. I cared, and I think it showed. I would ensure I understood any sub lesson plans left for me as well as the material, and would teach my ass off. Instead of just pointing out the assigned reading pages and questions, I would go over the material in class and go through as much of the assigned questions or writing as time allowed. I'd grade papers if possible. I'd encourage class participation.
Of course I was pretty green, and it took me a while to get a feel for handling classroom discipline. I wasn't perfect, but I was trying to be the sort of teacher that I would have wanted: one who got respect by demonstrating respect for the kids. (Disruptive classroom behavior is not an issue when you're teaching a room full of attorneys.) I got a lot of positive feedback, especially from the students. Towards the end of the school year the school closest to me (which I preferred) was calling me in essentially on a daily basis. Most frequently I was called in to cover for the special ed classes, which had kids with learning disabilities, behavioral problems, difficult home lives, and more. (I add this because of the email content.)
On one half-day, I subbed for an old friend of my oldest sister, "Jenny" in the email message below. It was an elementary class, and we went through a few basic things. One of the Common Core worksheets had two questions that worded so ambiguously that they had multiple correct answers, not just the one that was called "correct" on the answer sheet. I looked up the definitions of the terms to make sure I wasn't imagining things, informed the class to disregard those questions, and explained how it could be interpreted multiple ways. Typos happen, both in statutes and elementary workbooks, no big deal. I left a note for the teacher explaining what I'd come across and how I had handled it, in case she wanted to address it further. I didn't hear back from her. A few weeks ago a bunch of family came back into town, and my oldest sister went out and grabbed a beer with "Jenny".
So a few days later, my oldest sister sent me this email. It's really been fucking with my head since then. I don't know how much of it is accurate, if any. (I should mention -- in the past year I have let my hair grow out from conservative-legal-business-short to shoulder length, and sport a carefully trimmed beard.)

Sisterissuethrowaway,
I didn't want to tell you about this because it is embarrassing and I knew it would make you feel bad. But, (other sister) told me that you were being stubborn and that you needed to hear some of the things that Jenny told me. She said she felt bad telling me this but that it was the truth. She said she didn't dislike you but you've acted really badly. I believe her. Jenny is a kind, loving person and my good friend of 30 years. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body. This is truly how people experience you.
This is what was reported to me:
The teachers have a derogatory nickname for you.
The teachers make fun of you. When you leave them critical notes they read them out loud to each other and laugh at them.
A sub has never, ever left notes like yours to the teaching staff and they think you have a mental problem for thinking you have to right to do so.
You behave unprofessionally. You strut around like a rock star and seem to get an ego rush from being in front of an audience of kids when it is pretty clear that you don't have a clue as to what you are doing.
The day after you've subbed there are always complaints about you from the kids.
The teaching staff feels you do not respect teachers because you are arrogant enough to criticize their work without any qualifications in education yourself and having never held a professional job in education.
They feel you disrespect the kids by showing up looking slovenly with poor hygiene. The area is economically depressed and the kids deserve role models who look and behave professionally, you do neither.
When Sisterissuethrowaway subs the following are guaranteed:
He will not do his job.
The teacher he was subbing for will have twice as much work to do the next day. He messes up the lesson plans and seems to have no idea of how they fit into a larger curriculum plan.
Every class in the school has several kids with learning disabilities from dyslexia to auditory processing disorders and more. When he subs, the kids in class who have learning disabilities are often left confused and frustrated because he changes lesson plans and in doing so removes items in the lesson plan that were placed there specifically for those kids. The teachers have had to reassure these kids the next day that there is nothing wrong with them. It is really frustrating for the teachers to have to do damage control with these kids all because some arrogant guy thinks he knows better.
There will be complaints about how he acted and that his clothes smelled bad.
He will leave condescending, insulting notes for the teacher that often betray his lack of knowledge of education, child development, the needs of kids with learning disabilities and school systems in general.
When I said that you told sister that you considered yourself a teacher and felt that you connected with kids, Jenny laughed and said "NO ONE, not the teachers or even the students considers Sisterissuethrowaway a teacher. And believe me, even if he went and got a teaching certificate, no one here wants him at this school. And me saying that has nothing to do with the 2 lesson plans of mine he messed with. Yes, I was totally annoyed that I had to redo the lessons and re-grade the work, but I laughed and rolled my eyes when I saw his notes."
When I asked Jenny why she didn't let me or Mom know this was going on she said she knew we'd be embarrassed. (Which we are, by the way, totally mortified.) She also said a lot of people at the school know me, other sister or Mom. They knew you had moved back to Hometown and wanted to be supportive. Once they saw what a jerk you were, they felt embarrassed for us.
So there you have it Sisterissuethrowaway, what was reported to me by someone who works at the school. You are not a teacher. You have actually caused difficulty for some kids which, I know you did not intend, but you have. Your behavior is completely inappropriate and has alienated people to the point that they make fun of you. Please go try to find a job in your own field of work.
I am not sending this to be hurtful. This was reported to me. There is nothing here open to interpretation. This is the way people experience you.
I love you and want you to do well. You need to understand that any possible success in life is tied to having positive relationships with other people. Simply being intellectually smart is getting you nowhere. Good social skills, a sense of social awareness and interpersonal relationship skills are SO much more important than being smart.
Love, Sis

tl;dr: Sister sent me a message regarding my recent work experience. It completely trashes what I've done over the past year. I can't tell wtf is going on here.
EDIT: Thanks for all the helpful comments folks, I appreciate it and am still going through and thinking over them. It's been really helpful to see that it's not crazy for me to have found this message intentionally hurtful more than anything. One thing has come up a few times now, and for some reason an earlier clarifying thread has been deleted. I was asked to grade "Jenny's" papers, 'if I had the time.' I only grade papers in classes when I am asked to by the teacher or on their lesson plan, otherwise I just collect and organize assignments for grading by the regular teacher. I understand that some regular teachers might want to do the checking/grading themselves.
EDIT2: A bit more about the problem questions I corrected and my note about it. This was an elementary class. I don't remember the exact wording, but one of the questions went basically like this: "Circle the SHARP object pictured below!" It then had pictures of scissors (with rounded tips), a ball, a pillow, and a nail. The key indicated that the nail was the 'correct' answer. One of the kids pointed out that scissors have sharp edges... and that kid was 100% correct. After I triple-checked, I told the kids that I'd mark either answer as correct. My note read something like "hey question #7 said that the nail was sharp, but as Tasha pointed out, scissors are sharp too! (In that their cutting edges are sharp.) I double checked by looking up the definition of the word 'sharp,' and she's right! So FYI I marked either answer as correct."
Wish I could remember the details of the second one, but it's been a few months already, and it seemed so minor that I just can't recall.
​
Update, five years(!) later: (The ages in the update's title don't match up because of detail fudging on the OP's part)
The discussion was really helpful, and at one point I had my therapist read that thread. Thanks to everyone who chimed in.
Since that post, I have not been in contact with my sister, except for incidentally at a few family events, where we had minimal interaction. My other family is conflicted, but they seem to understand that neither of us wants to be in each others' lives any more, despite them wanting us both in theirs.
I've worked on this issue specifically in therapy, which has helped me develop some insight into those messages. Next year I will be as old as my sister was when she wrote me those abusive messages (there were a few followup messages I didn't include in the original post.)
I don't regret cutting her out. I do regret having had a toxic person for a sibling. Looking back I recognized that her over the top email was part of a few lifelong behavioral patterns. I realized that basically, despite our biological similarities and having been raised in the same household, we are simply not compatible people.
I hope one day she will develop her own insight, recognize her abusive behavior patterns, and reach out to try to repair or reestablish a relationship with me. But I'm not holding my breath for this to happen, and I'm not interested in reaching out to ask her if she'll consider trying to improve things. Not having her in my life in the years since has actually improved the quality of my life: there's been a lot of unnecessary drama and hard feelings that I'd been used to having to handle that I simply don't with her gone.
At this point I anticipate only seeing her at a few more funerals. Would have been nice to have a good relationship with a sibling, but I do not have that with her and I don't believe I ever will.
tl;dr: Cut abusive person out and life has improved
EDIT: I am humbled by your responses. Your support has moved me to grateful tears. Your perspectives, today and years ago, have really helped me to power through a pretty difficult experience. Thank you very much.
​
Bonus content from the comments on the update, people wanted to know how he was doing now and whether he was still teaching:
My reply was blocked for a while while waiting for mods to unlock this thread. Thanks for asking!
I continued subbing for about a year or so after that post. I continued to seek professional feedback and got to a point where I no longer had any doubts about my quality of work or professionalism. In my time subbing, I was able to work at over 40 different schools, in about a dozen different districts. I got 'preferred' sub status at a couple of the schools, and a few long-term offers for classes whose teachers left midway through the school year. Any professionalism concerns I originally had have since been put to rest, as far as I'm concerned.
That all said: substitute teaching is a pretty crappy job, on multiple levels. It doesn't even qualify as a public service job for public service student loan forgiveness.
Since then I've passed my state bar exam, became a licensed attorney, started my own law practice, and it's been growing. I'm earning more and my quality of life has improved. I'm a long ways away from the worst of my depression, but lifestyle changes and talk therapy helped me reach a point where I am able to function and manage, without meds.
There have been difficulties along the way, but I'm in a better space now than I was five years ago.

Good Morning, /WritingHub!

You may have noticed a fancy new feature mentioned a couple of times on this sub called Serial Saturday: so… what is it?
Serial Saturday is a weekly programme for serial writing-- for newer writers, it’s the perfect way to ease into a brave new world of writing themed beat assignments for your own original projects.
So how does it work?
It’s relatively easy to start writing micro or short fiction. With some work, it’s not too hard to find places to receive feedback and hone your skills. However, how do you make the shift to writing longer works?
Jumping right in with a novel is – not to put too fine a point on it – scary for most people. The change in requirements from writing a 500 word short to writing a novella or a novel is not insubstantial. An awful lot of things to worry about; from character progression to B plots, to thematic handling, to world-building and coherence. And they all suddenly start crawling out of the woodwork.
So how do you bridge that gap?
Writing a serial is definitely one way to go about that. If you complete 15-40 episodes of a serial, at 750 words each, you’ve built yourself the framework for a novella. With any luck, and assuming you’ve managed to find an audience, you might have built yourself interest in the world you’re writing as well.
Knowing how to structure that story is where the serial programme comes in. The beat sheet format can help you subdivide your story structure — our programme can help guide you through how that enables narrative flow and can hone in your character arcs.
Each Saturday from January 16th to June 26th, a new assignment will be posted here on the sub. The assignment will work off of a beat sheet and the tenets of the Three Act Structure. At the end of the program, participants will have a 22 part flash serial; and hopefully, a lot more confidence to tackle big ideas with similar bite-sized chunks.
Unfamiliar with the Three Act Structure? Check out our mod mobaisle_writing’s breakdown of what that is, and what it means for this program.

New to /WritingHub and Serial Saturday, and want to join in the fun?

If you’re brand new to /WritingHub and thinking about participating in Serial Saturday, welcome! Feel free to dip your toes in by writing for the current challenge or any others we have listed on the beat schedule at the bottom of the post. As the programme progresses, the schedule will be updated with links to the relevant threads as they go live.
Coming to us while we’re midseason? You don’t need to “catch up” by writing for each of the previous assignments. If you choose to start with us later on, feel free to jump right in wherever fits for you and your story. Don’t be worried about offering crit to people on old threads, it’s one of the best ways to get people to recognise that you’ve submitted and to return the favour.

So what are the goals of Serial Saturday?

The ultimate goal for SerSat is to help serial writers successfully start (and more importantly finish) a story that covers a clear narrative arc. Lots of writers want to tell their stories but aren’t sure how to actually write the dang things. That’s where Serial Saturday comes in.
Each post will address how these challenge assignments can apply to both ‘conflict-heavy’ and ‘non-conflict-heavy stories’. Over the course of the programme, participants can earn a fancy “completed serial banner” on the sub based on the Saturday feature with only 12 instalments, so there's no problem with anyone picking and choosing what assignments suit their story.
The Rules:

• In the current assignment thread submit a story that is between 500 - 750 words in your own original universe. Please be sure to check the rules for a given week as the word limit can change.
• Submissions are limited to one serial submission per author per week.
• Each author should comment on at least 2 other stories over the course of each week that they participate.
  • That comment must include at least one detail about what the author has done well.
• Authors who successfully finish a serial lasting longer at least 12 instalments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the sub.
  • Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule. Yes, we will check.
  • In order to fulfil the spirit of following a beat-based narrative structure, at least 2 beats must be completed in each of the four ‘parts’ of the schedule below.
• While content rules are lax here at /WritingHub, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of "vaguely family-friendly" being the overall tone for the moment. If you’re ever unsure whether or not your story would cross the line, feel free to message our modmail or find one of the mods on our Discord server.

Reminders:

• Authors that complete a serial with 12 or more instalments and following the adjoined rules get a fancy finalist flair and a modpost to highlight their story.
• Saturdays we will be hosting a Serials Campfire on the Discord server voice chat. Join us to read your episode aloud, exchange crit, and be part of a great little writers community! We start on Saturdays at 0900hrs CST (GMT - 6hrs). Don’t worry about being late, just join!

There’s a Serialist role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Saturday related news! Join the Discord to chat with other writers in our community!
And without further ado, I give you the schedule:
The idea for releasing this schedule is that it should help participants prepare better for upcoming arcs and how they plan to address them. If you prefer to wait to brainstorm until each beat is assigned that is totally ok, too.
This is a modified beat sheet by Jami Gold-- you can check out the beat sheet on her website, where she has some great information on beat sheets, and you can also download our modified version PDF style via this link.
You can find our previous instalments, this document, or the standalone schedule by visiting our wiki.

Post Date	No.	Beats and Milestones	Brief Description
1/9		PRE-SEASON HYPENING	Join us in the discord server to discuss your upcoming plan and meet those involved.
		Part 1 — The Setup	Introduce protagonist, hook the reader, and setup First Plot Point (foreshadowing, establishing stakes); major goal is establishing empathy (not necessarily likability) for the protagonist.
1/16	Beat 1	Opening Scene	Sets the tone, mood, type, and scope of the project. A "before" snapshot. An opening scene or sequence of the story; introduces the protagonist.
1/23	Beat 2	Theme Stated	Secondary character poses question or statement to MC that is the theme of the story.
1/30	A.2	Hook Moment	Something that creates a question the reader wants an answer to or an itch that needs to be scratched; doesn't need context with protagonist's needs or stakes.
2/6	Beat 3	Set-up	Introduce/hint at every character in A story; plant character tics to be addressed later on.
2/13	Beat 4	Catalyst	Life-changing event that knocks down house of cards.
2/20	A.3	Inciting Incident	Game-changing event occurring during Part 1, often leading to a decision at the First Plot Point.
2/27	Beat 5	Debate	Teetering before the 'point of no return', the protagonist debates their response.
3/6	A.4	First Plot Point	Antagonistic forces fully comes into play, defining the goal, stakes, and obstacles for protagonist; first time the meaning and implications of antagonistic events are seen.
3/20	Beat 6	Act II	A strong, definite change of playing field. Do not ease into Act II.
		Part 2 — The Response	Focus: The protagonist's reaction to the new goal/stakes/obstacles revealed by the First Plot Point; the protagonist doesn't need to be heroic yet (retreats/regroups/doomed attempts/reminders of antagonistic forces at work).
3/27	Beat 7	B-Story	Gives us a break from the tension of the A story; carries theme; often uses a more relaxed version of characters.
4/3	Beat 8	Fun & Games	"The promise of the premise" / the heart / shining or floundering in new world.
4/10	B.1	First Pinch Point	Reminder of the story's antagonistic forces, not filtered by narrative or protagonist's description, but directly visible to the reader.
4/17	Beat 9	Midpoint	Threshold between 1st half and 2nd half; can be false peak or false collapse; stakes are raised; fun and games over.
4/24	B.2	Midpoint	New information or awareness that changes the experience or understanding of context for the protagonist and/or reader; a catalyst activating new decisions/actions.
		Part 3 — The Attack	Focus: Midpoint information/awareness causes the protagonist to change course in how to approach the obstacles; the hero is now empowered with information on how to proceed, not merely reacting anymore; protagonist also ramps up battle with inner demons.
5/1	Beat 10	Bad Guys Close In	Bad guys regroup and send heavy artillery; hero's team begins to unravel.
5/8	C.1	Second Pinch Point	Reminder of the story's antagonistic forces, as the antagonist ups the game against the protagonist's attacks.
5/15	Beat 11	All is Lost	Opposite of midpoint (peak/collapse); whiff of death - old way of thinking dies/give up moment/runaway moment; false defeat; no hope.
5/22	Beat 12	Darkest moment	Darkest point; protagonist has lost everything.
5/29	C.3	Second Plot Point	The final injection of new information into the story (doesn't need to be fully understood by the protagonist yet); protagonist's quest is accelerated.
		Part 4 — The Resolution	Focus: The protagonist summons the courage and growth to come up with solution, overcome inner obstacles, and conquer the antagonistic force; all new information must have been referenced, foreshadowed, or already in play (otherwise, deus ex machina).
6/5	Beat 13	Act III	A story and B story combine and reveal solution.
6/12	Beat 14	Finale	Wrap-up; dispatch all bad guys in ascending order, working way up to the boss.
6/19	Beat 15	Final Image	Opposite of opening image; show how much change has occurred. New World Order.
6/26		SEASON FINALE CAMPFIRE

..aaaand that’s all, folks.
A big hype from myself, ALiteralDumpsterFire, and NovaTheElf, and we look forward to seeing you this Saturday for the first event.

This was supposed to be a much shorter story, but it got a little out of hand... Sorry
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‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas-7 took firm strides towards the Vanguard’s table, Hayes and Tank already waiting for him. Hayes shot him a cocky smirk and opened his mouth to speak, but Atlas cut him off with a finger, “Shut it, do not want to hear it, especially from you!” Hayes closed his mouth and gave a quiet laugh behind his grin, Tank himself having to suppress a sly smile. Zavala looked up from his side of the desk at the three Guardians standing shoulder to shoulder.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Ah, Atlas. You’re late…” Zavala informed him with a wry eyebrow raised. Atlas gave a sigh and nodded with closed metallic eyes.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Forgive me, Commander. You have an assignment for us?” Atlas asked. Behind him, Tank and Hayes passed glimmer from one to another, no doubt the outcome of a bet while waiting for the Exo.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Yes. We have another unusual task for you today. You’re well aware that the relationship Guardians share with the City is not always the most… understood.” Zavala put either hand on the table. “The great battles have long since passed, and the people are forgetting that we are people as well. We need you to go down there and show the civilians that Guardians are nothing to be afraid of.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Cayde-6 laughed from across the table, “So what do you want them to do, start a carwash for them?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Zavala turned his gaze to the Exo, scowling. “Thank you for your input Cayde, but I was thinking of targeting the younger generation.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas, Tank, and Hayes all traded looks with one another, before looking at Zavala. “What did you have in mind?” Tank rose a grey eyebrow in curiosity.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I have scheduled a guest visit from Guardians at the Botza Park Elementary School, and you three would make the perfect candidates.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Not to come off as rude towards our team Commander,” Atlas looked over his shoulder as he spoke before turning his gaze back to Zavala. “But we are not what I would define as perfect.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Hey! I find that offensive!” Hayes barked. “Give me a gun and some glimmer and I’ll perfect the crap out of anything you point me at!”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Although I don’t quite agree with what he’s saying, I do agree with his sentiment. Have a little faith Atlas.” Tank shoves him with an elbow.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Zavala rubbed his chin and gestured towards them. “One of each Guardian class in a fireteam, are you aware of how uncommon that is?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Common.” Atlas plainly stated
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And that makes you guys the perfect image of the average Guardian team!” Cayde encouraged, giving a thumbs up in the process. “Thanks for volunteering!”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes looked to his Vanguard, placing a hand on his chest and shotting him a hurt expression. Tank crossed his arms and questioned, “When would we be doing this?”
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‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The three Guardians waited outside in a hallway. One of the many corridors that comprised the labyrinth someone had called a School. Tank sat in a navy blue chair much too small for him while still wearing his bulky, damaged armour, helmet included. Atlas meditated with crossed legs, dressed in pristine, thick red robes with a black interior, it’s bottom just long enough to not touch the ground if he were to stand. Hayes leaned against lockers across the hall from them, spinning a flaming knife in anticipation. His body was covered in a rich, blue velvet vest, wearing a black long sleeve shirt, with small pauldrons on his shoulders. His white pants lead down to dark, armoured boots.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Their Ghost’s wandered the halls. Tank’s Ghost, Omar waited patiently next to his Guardian. Atlas’ Ghost, Cassini, scanned a science textbook someone had dropped on their way to class. Meanwhile, Chaplin, Hayes’ Ghost, analyzed a set of lockers.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The boredom was beginning to become unbearable. Hayes had been slowly tapping his head against the locker for quite some time now, while Tank had been nodding to sleep in his tiny blue chair, quite clearly not meant for someone of his size. Everything was dead quiet, save for the muffled teachings happening behind a closed door between Tank and Atlas. “How many more of these do we have to do today?” Hayes agonized, smacking his head harder and harder.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“This is the last class we need to go to, have patience,” Atlas said, opening his eyes. “Just look at how relaxed Tank is.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎A muffled snoring came from under Tank’s helmet, his body slouched over. Atlas looked at him, disappointed. “Yeah, real relaxed,” Hayes smirked and twirled his knife into his palm. He gripped the knife by the blade and threw it at the Titan. Spinning through the air, it’s hilt bounced off Tank's helmet, the sound from the impact echoed down the vacant halls. Tank snapped to attention, jumping out of his seat.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I’M UP!” He shouted, falling back onto his chair. There was a groan of metal bending as he impacted the chair, the force caused the already worn metal and plastic to shatter like glass, throwing him to the ground. Hayes snatched the knife out of the air and burst out laughing, bending over and crying, nearly falling to the floor himself in the hysteria. Tank picked himself up and marched to Hayes with fists clenched. Atlas could feel the rage radiating off him and knew if he didn’t step in, some poor janitor would be cleaning blood and bits of Hayes out of the hallway for days. Tank grabbed Hayes by his collar and raised him up, the Hunter never stopping his cackling. Atlas put his arms between them and tried to push them apart when a voice called out.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Ummm... is everything alright out here?” A middle-aged woman in a relaxed, but formal jacket, peered her head out from their classroom, staring at the three in bewilderment. Tank dropped Hayes, then wrapped an arm around him.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Just fine!” Tank forced a smile, even though no one could see it. The woman stared at each of them for a moment before opening the door, exposing a class full of children, none older than fourteen.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Uh-huh…” The woman turned back to their students and spoke softly. “Well, we’re ready for you.” She welcomed them into the classroom, but stopped, gesturing to the obliterated chair. “I presume that was the sound I heard?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank replied sheepishly, “Unfortunately yes.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Well then, I’ll have to charge your Vanguard for that as well, alongside the OTHER damages from this… Experience.” She chastised them.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Actually, the dye in that chair was from the chemical Rebutinuimate-14, which has been shown to be a leading factor in most childhood poisoning if the toxicology reports are to be believed. We saved you from that chair.” Cassini interjected, looking up from the science textbook laid out in front of her.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman stared back in bafflement, then turned to the students. “Alright kids, our special guests are here for today’s lesson!” The Guardians exchanged looks before stepping inside. Tank looked out over the sea of kids and felt as nervous as he had with the first batch of students, but Atlas and Hayes remained steeled in their emotions. They were very comfortable and familiar with the routine at this point. Behind them, their Ghosts flew in, observing and recording them for Vanguard evaluation.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas stepped forward and introduced himself. “Hello, we are the Guardians of Fireteam Orchestral.” Atlas pressed a hand against his chest, “I am Atlas-7, a Warlock, an Exo, and the leader of this Fireteam. I manage missions, pilot our ship, and perform in the field logistics.” The children stared in amazement, looking over them intently. Atlas moved his hand to his left in an open-hand point, “This is Hayes.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes gave a two-finger wave to the kids and smiled. “Sup. As you can probably tell from my skin, I'm an Awoken, but more importantly, I’m the Hunter of the group. I do all the cool shi-”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎‘AHEM!” The woman loudly coughed, shooting him a look that could cut diamonds.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I mean, cool stuff like recon, surveillance, scouting and trick shots!”. He pulls his hands up and fires off some finger guns to the class.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“AHEM! I thought we agreed no more summoned firearms after the first… incident.” She scolded.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Is this woman serious…?” Hayes said dumbstruck.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas groaned and moved his hand to his right and continued, “And this is Tank.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank gave a quick salute before he spoke. “Hey there, like he said, my name’s Tank and I’m a Titan. I’m the spearhead of the group, being the front line offence in any engagement. Whenever we get into a fight, I’m the first one into the fray.” he proudly spoke behind his helmet. The children's eyes went wide and some of them couldn’t help but oohing and ahhing as the man talked, the baritone of his voice and the size of his armour made him look like a knight from the old, pre-golden-age stories. His armour sold the idea, looking like it had aged for a few centuries.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and speaking in a voice filled with pride. “Together we have been on hundreds of missions beyond The Wall. From Mercury to the Reef, and beyond, we defend the City from anything that dares to threaten it. For centuries we have fought with each other and fought next to each other at the most infamous battles the City has seen. It is my understanding that your students are currently learning about the Battle of Twilight Gap?” Atlas looked to the woman, who gave him a nod. “This afternoon, we will tell you about what it means to be our respective class and what it was like fighting at Twilight Gap. Thank you for your time.” Atlas turned to Hayes and nodded, “The floor is yours.” The Titan and Warlock walked away, taking a seat on chairs at the corner of the room, Tank still dwarfing his chair.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes moved to where Atlas had been standing and pulled a seat to him. He leapt on top of it, sitting on the backrest with his feet in the seat. “Bein’ a Hunter is all about being where you belong. Ask any Hunter and they’ll say the same. The Warlocks may have their libraries and the Titan’s have their walls, but Hunter's? Hunters don't have A place, we have All the places. A Hunter belongs just beyond the line of the world you know and the unknown, whether that's on an asteroid trailing a Fallen Ketch past Saturn, sleeping in the mud, SMASHING THE LEADERBOARDS OF THE CRUCIBLE FOR THE 4TH WEEK IN A ROW!
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“WOOOOOOO!!!” A kid in the back of the class shouted in excitement.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“That guy gets it!” Hayes pointed into the crowd with a toothy grin.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Enough boasting kid, don’t forget to tell them about Twilight Gap!” Tank yelled from the corner of the room.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Oooo Twilight Gap, that was a while ago… Hey guys, did we save the civilians first then crash into the Ketch, or was that after?” Hayes looked to his team.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Civilians first, Ketch second.” Atlas lectured.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Right. So! There we were standing on the wall, the Fallen were everywhere. Captains, Vandals, Dregs and Shanks were swarming us from every nook and cranny they could crawl out of. They were being dropped off by the Skiffs flyin’ low, and we were running out of ammo. As we’re fighting, the big man over there see’s a Fallen Walker stuck to a Skiff descending into the City. I knew then what I had to do!” Hayes leapt from the chair to one edge of the classroom. “At that moment, I ran through the battlefield and cast my Golden Gun! Hundreds of Fallen stood in my way, but with each shot, dozens of ‘em fell!” Hayes ran across the classroom, sliding and firing a finger gun as he travelled across the room. “I jumped aboard a Skiff that was dropping off reinforcements and climbed inside, taking it for myself. Tank and Atlas climbed aboard and we flew into the city after the Walker.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“By the time we got to it, it had already destroyed three buildings. I jumped out of the Skiff as we flew over and landed on top of it.” He vaulted towards the chair and landed on it like it was a wild beast. He stood up and put a leg on the backrest. “With my shotgun, I unloaded a pack of rounds into its legs, tearing it to pieces. Before I could put it down good with a shot from my Golden Gun, Tank lept a hundred feet down and crushed it with a Fist of Havok! Everything exploded! When the dust settled, we stood triumphant on top of its corpse.” Hayes described, posing heroically on top of the chair. He looked over the children, seeing them on the edge of their seats. A smirk grew across his face and he turned to his team. “Tank, you can finish this for me..” He pushed against the backrest of the chair, tipping it over. He tucked into a ball as he fell to the ground, rolling over to Tank before jumping to his feet.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Tank watched with a grin and got up, giving his seat to the Hunter. He walked to the chair Hayes used, picking it up off the ground and setting it back upright. He took his seat, and leaned forward, placing an arm on his knee. “Well… To finish the story. I think I have to tell you what it means to be a Titan…” Tank moved his hands to his helmet, his fingers gripping around the silver mirrored visor and pulled up, revealing his aged face. A few gasps came from the kids, seeing him for the first time.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“What does it mean to be a Titan? It means being the aegis of the City, and being her starwalt defender. While the Warlocks study, and the Hunter’s play, we stand vigil for weeks at a time in an unending watch for all of Humanity’s enemies. Titans cannot give an inch when pushed, because in the end we are the wall against which the Darkness breaks. When even the mightiest weapons come, an unbreakable defence will always stand... ” Tank trailed off. The kids watched him in awe as he slid the helmet back on, becoming the Knight they believed him to be.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“So there we were, Hayes and I standing victorious over the Walker, when we heard the screams of civilians. The Fallen armies assaulted the walls from all directions, but in the chaos, packs of Devil infiltrators had slipped through the fence. With citizens this close to the Wall, they were right in the crossfire of battle. We needed to get them deeper into the safety of the City. The two of us ran to them as I told Atlas the plan. We would use the hijacked Skiff to deliver groups of civilians to the heart of the City. As we arrived at the designated emergency bunker, its doors were already being assaulted by the Fallen. After disposing of the assailants and opening the doors, we realized a problem. There were far too many people for a single ride. There would need to be trips, and a lot of them.” Tank stood up and paced back and forth at the front of the classroom.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Atlas lowered the Skiff, and Hayes loaded people in, but we couldn’t all go. If we all left, the people would be defenceless against any more Fallen. So I told them to go on their own to get them to safety. I gave them a salute as they left, and I was left alone to defend them. Myself, against hundreds of Fallen that all crawled through the streets and across buildings. But I was a Wall… And I would not move.” Tank clenched his fists as he walked, and some kids would swear to this day they saw electricity sparking off his arms. “By the time they came back, scores of Fallen littered the street around me, and I stood unmoving. We would continue moving people for the next three hours as the battle raged on, not a single civilian we found fell that day. When we were done, we…” Tank stopped and stared at all the kids gripping their desks in anticipation. He turned back to Hayes and Atlas and nodded. “I think Atlas can tell this next part better.” Atlas stood, and Tank picked up and tossed the chair at Atlas from across the room.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas caught it, and set it down next to the one beside Hayes, before walking past Tank. Atlas looked at them and pushed against the ground with the force of a leaf hitting the floor. He rose and floated in the air. The children all gasped in amazement as he hovered off the ground. “After we were certain the civilians were safe, we heard a priority one communication over the radio. Zavala and Lord Saladin had ordered a regroup at the Ridgeback District for all Guardians. We knew what that meant. The Wall at Twilight Gap had been breached, and within minutes, the Fallen would be swarming the streets, and within the day the City would be theirs. I ordered my team into the Skiff, and we set off for Ridgeback to try to prevent that outcome.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“When we arrived, we heard that Lord Shaxx was still holding the Wall with five other Guardians. You’ll come to know them as the Hero’s of Twilight Gap. Lord Saladin had taken notice of our Commandeered ship, and together we hatched a plan. There was a Ketch outside the firing range of the Wall’s gun that was still pounding Twilight Gap trying to dislodge the six Guardians. If we could get close to the Ketch without being shot down, board the Ketch, and disable it’s armaments, while the rest of the Guardian forces formed a counter attack. The battle might not be lost.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas looked to his team, and back at the students. He crossed his legs to sit in the air, steepling his fingers. “Before I left, I asked Tank and Hayes if they would like to stay behind. This very well was a suicide mission. Not one answered. We all knew what the plan was. Tank and a two other titans clambered on top of the Skiff, and we set off for the Ketch. As we approached I had Hayes speak in Eliksni to the Ketch’s crew, making sure we were not a target for them on our approach. As soon as we were close enough to not be targeted by their guns, I maxed our thrusters. Tank braced, and right before we hit, the two other titans hurled him with all their might into the hull of the Ketch, breaking its armour and allowing the Skiff to tear through the ship with ease. None of us survived but our Ghosts did. After being resurrected it was an uphill battle to the Navigation room, but we had planned for this. While we made our way to the bridge our two titan company diverged to their aft hangar. Together they caused as much chaos as they could, destroying seven walker tanks and three skiffs before they had to retreat off the Ketch.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Thanks to them we were able to reach our goal of their bridge, where a Nova Bomb easily destroyed the Pilot servitor and much of the hardware. Without anything guiding the ship, it began to plummet to the Earth below, and into the back line of the The Fallens forces. We barely made it out before it exploded on impact. Together we had survived our battle, and as we looked up, we saw the Fallen retreating. The counter attack had been successful. Many Guardians and Citizens perished, but the Battle of Twilight Gap was won, and the City was safe.” Atlas uncrossed his legs and fell to the ground again. His expressionless stare looked at each student, judging their reactions. All of them were glued to every word the three of them had said.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“That’s what it means to be a Warlock. To have a plan and to devise a strategy. To never go into a battle without knowing every possibility, and ensuring that everyone you know will make it out safely. The Titan’s can spend their lives standing idle and the Hunters can spend their life in the wilds, but Warlocks? We feel most comfortable learning, planning, and unraveling the secrets of the universe to prevent Humanity or the Traveler from being eradicated.” Atlas gave a small wave to his teammates to come over. They stood and walked to either side of Atlas. “And what do we all have in common? The drive to fight day and night, through the harshest environments known to man, to keep you safe. That is what being a Guardian is about. Thank you.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman walked to the front of the classroom and looked to her students. “Let’s give a hand to our guest speakers this afternoon!” The room erupted into a symphony of applause. “Please ensure to fill out your worksheet about what you’ve learned today, I’ll be right back.” She opened the door to the hallway, leading the Guardians out one by one. A janitor had just finished cleaning up blue shards of chair off the ground when they stepped out. The woman looked at them and placed her hands on her hip. “That one went a lot better than the last few. It almost made me want to avoid reprimanding you for what happened earlier. Almost. I do appreciate that you came here to talk to our kids though. I’ll let your Vanguard know that you did… Adequately.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Thank you for having us.” Tank gratefully nodded. “We’ll make sure next time is better for everyone.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎The woman scoffed as she opened the door to the classroom. “Ha! Next time, that’s a good one.” She waved a hand and walked back inside the room, swinging it shut behind her. The three were left alone in the halls again.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes looked around and slung his arms around his comrades. “Sooo, who's for a drink?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Please.” Tank groaned, wrestling loose of Hayes’ arm and walking down the halls
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Definitely.” Atlas nodded and followed.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes joined them through the hallway and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearin’ that story.” A pause filled the air before he spoke again. “You sure this is the way out?”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“I thought you knew the way out? I was waiting for your directions!?” Tank said.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Why would I know the way out, I’ve just been following her?” Hayes snapped back.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“You’re our scout…”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Hayes shot Tank a vacant expression.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And our recon…” He growled
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Tank, all the halls we’ve been down have all literally been the exact same. They do this to drain individuality.” Hayes lectured. “We’re stuck here by design.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎"My scans also indicated the same, although there was a variation of 2cm down the second hallway. I have already filed a complaint with the administration board of the school to-” Cassini trailed off, talking to herself.
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“And here I was thinking you were planning an escape this entire time…” Tank lamented
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎“Oh I was, I was just gonna dive out the closest window. Unless you want to go back and ask her for directions, we’re wandering our way out.”
‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‏‎ ‎Atlas sighed, mumbling, “How in the Travelers name have we lived this long…”

Hello, relationships. This is long, so thanks to any who plow through it.
Recently I got a really hurtful message from my oldest sister, and I'm not sure how to take it. I'll start with some background and context, then paste the email. Names and personal details have been altered to obscure identities.
I'm the youngest of three children. My two older sisters are both stay-at-home mothers. My oldest sister and I have never been particularly close. Since she's had kids, she has seemed to like and respect me less and less. A few times over the years I've heard of something pretty nasty and insulting Oldest Sister has said about me, behind my back. It got a lot worse a few years ago after our dad died, when she seemed to transfer the issues she had with her dad to me.
I always knew I didn't want children of my own, and instead have focused on my academics and career. I have a bachelor's, master's, and a law degree. I do not practice law, but my master's and JD are a combination in a niche field that requires both. I don't want to get too specific because the field is small, but my most recent full-time position included developing and teaching continuing education classes for law school students, attorneys, and judges. These classes are more like focused weekend seminars than the kind of term-long, graded classes you get in school. The judges and attorneys need to take a certain number of classes per year to keep their licenses.
Anyway about a year ago a number of external stresses snowballed to the point of my developing severe, crippling depression. Along with some other less painful things, several people I loved died within a short time period. I'd recently relocated several thousand miles away from friends and family, and didn't have any real support network.
And I stumbled, hard. I could barely get out of bed, and regularly spent hours on end just sitting around weeping. I sought medical care and counseling, was put on meds and started therapy. It helped me regain some basic level of functioning, but I found myself no longer able to perform my job adequately. I wound up moving back home with mom, hoping the proximity to family and friends would help me heal and regroup.
Anyway my home town is a small, rural place with no call for my specialty. I wasn't licensed to practice law in that state, and the best work I could come across was being a substitute teacher for a handful of public schools in my region.
I thought I was doing a great job, tbh. I loved working with the kids at all levels. I went to one of those schools, and I felt like I was giving something back to the community. I knew a few of the other teachers and administration from going to the same school together. I cared, and I think it showed. I would ensure I understood any sub lesson plans left for me as well as the material, and would teach my ass off. Instead of just pointing out the assigned reading pages and questions, I would go over the material in class and go through as much of the assigned questions or writing as time allowed. I'd grade papers if possible. I'd encourage class participation.
Of course I was pretty green, and it took me a while to get a feel for handling classroom discipline. I wasn't perfect, but I was trying to be the sort of teacher that I would have wanted: one who got respect by demonstrating respect for the kids. (Disruptive classroom behavior is not an issue when you're teaching a room full of attorneys.) I got a lot of positive feedback, especially from the students. Towards the end of the school year the school closest to me (which I preferred) was calling me in essentially on a daily basis. Most frequently I was called in to cover for the special ed classes, which had kids with learning disabilities, behavioral problems, difficult home lives, and more. (I add this because of the email content.)
On one half-day, I subbed for an old friend of my oldest sister, "Jenny" in the email message below. It was an elementary class, and we went through a few basic things. One of the Common Core worksheets had two questions that worded so ambiguously that they had multiple correct answers, not just the one that was called "correct" on the answer sheet. I looked up the definitions of the terms to make sure I wasn't imagining things, informed the class to disregard those questions, and explained how it could be interpreted multiple ways. Typos happen, both in statutes and elementary workbooks, no big deal. I left a note for the teacher explaining what I'd come across and how I had handled it, in case she wanted to address it further. I didn't hear back from her. A few weeks ago a bunch of family came back into town, and my oldest sister went out and grabbed a beer with "Jenny".
So a few days later, my oldest sister sent me this email. It's really been fucking with my head since then. I don't know how much of it is accurate, if any. (I should mention -- in the past year I have let my hair grow out from conservative-legal-business-short to shoulder length, and sport a carefully trimmed beard.)

Sisterissuethrowaway,

I didn't want to tell you about this because it is embarrassing and I knew it would make you feel bad. But, (other sister) told me that you were being stubborn and that you needed to hear some of the things that Jenny told me. She said she felt bad telling me this but that it was the truth. She said she didn't dislike you but you've acted really badly. I believe her. Jenny is a kind, loving person and my good friend of 30 years. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body. This is truly how people experience you.
This is what was reported to me:
The teachers have a derogatory nickname for you.
The teachers make fun of you. When you leave them critical notes they read them out loud to each other and laugh at them.
A sub has never, ever left notes like yours to the teaching staff and they think you have a mental problem for thinking you have to right to do so.
You behave unprofessionally. You strut around like a rock star and seem to get an ego rush from being in front of an audience of kids when it is pretty clear that you don't have a clue as to what you are doing.
The day after you've subbed there are always complaints about you from the kids.
The teaching staff feels you do not respect teachers because you are arrogant enough to criticize their work without any qualifications in education yourself and having never held a professional job in education.
They feel you disrespect the kids by showing up looking slovenly with poor hygiene. The area is economically depressed and the kids deserve role models who look and behave professionally, you do neither.
When Sisterissuethrowaway subs the following are guaranteed:
He will not do his job.
The teacher he was subbing for will have twice as much work to do the next day. He messes up the lesson plans and seems to have no idea of how they fit into a larger curriculum plan.
Every class in the school has several kids with learning disabilities from dyslexia to auditory processing disorders and more. When he subs, the kids in class who have learning disabilities are often left confused and frustrated because he changes lesson plans and in doing so removes items in the lesson plan that were placed there specifically for those kids. The teachers have had to reassure these kids the next day that there is nothing wrong with them. It is really frustrating for the teachers to have to do damage control with these kids all because some arrogant guy thinks he knows better.
There will be complaints about how he acted and that his clothes smelled bad.
He will leave condescending, insulting notes for the teacher that often betray his lack of knowledge of education, child development, the needs of kids with learning disabilities and school systems in general.
When I said that you told sister that you considered yourself a teacher and felt that you connected with kids, Jenny laughed and said "NO ONE, not the teachers or even the students considers Sisterissuethrowaway a teacher. And believe me, even if he went and got a teaching certificate, no one here wants him at this school. And me saying that has nothing to do with the 2 lesson plans of mine he messed with. Yes, I was totally annoyed that I had to redo the lessons and re-grade the work, but I laughed and rolled my eyes when I saw his notes."
When I asked Jenny why she didn't let me or Mom know this was going on she said she knew we'd be embarrassed. (Which we are, by the way, totally mortified.) She also said a lot of people at the school know me, other sister or Mom. They knew you had moved back to Hometown and wanted to be supportive. Once they saw what a jerk you were, they felt embarrassed for us.
So there you have it Sisterissuethrowaway, what was reported to me by someone who works at the school. You are not a teacher. You have actually caused difficulty for some kids which, I know you did not intend, but you have. Your behavior is completely inappropriate and has alienated people to the point that they make fun of you. Please go try to find a job in your own field of work.
I am not sending this to be hurtful. This was reported to me. There is nothing here open to interpretation. This is the way people experience you.
I love you and want you to do well. You need to understand that any possible success in life is tied to having positive relationships with other people. Simply being intellectually smart is getting you nowhere. Good social skills, a sense of social awareness and interpersonal relationship skills are SO much more important than being smart.
Love, Sis
tl;dr: Sister sent me a message regarding my recent work experience. It completely trashes what I've done over the past year. I can't tell wtf is going on here.
EDIT: Thanks for all the helpful comments folks, I appreciate it and am still going through and thinking over them. It's been really helpful to see that it's not crazy for me to have found this message intentionally hurtful more than anything. One thing has come up a few times now, and for some reason an earlier clarifying thread has been deleted. I was asked to grade "Jenny's" papers, 'if I had the time.' I only grade papers in classes when I am asked to by the teacher or on their lesson plan, otherwise I just collect and organize assignments for grading by the regular teacher. I understand that some regular teachers might want to do the checking/grading themselves.
EDIT2: A bit more about the problem questions I corrected and my note about it. This was an elementary class. I don't remember the exact wording, but one of the questions went basically like this: "Circle the SHARP object pictured below!" It then had pictures of scissors (with rounded tips), a ball, a pillow, and a nail. The key indicated that the nail was the 'correct' answer. One of the kids pointed out that scissors have sharp edges... and that kid was 100% correct. After I triple-checked, I told the kids that I'd mark either answer as correct. My note read something like "hey question #7 said that the nail was sharp, but as Tasha pointed out, scissors are sharp too! (In that their cutting edges are sharp.) I double checked by looking up the definition of the word 'sharp,' and she's right! So FYI I marked either answer as correct."
Wish I could remember the details of the second one, but it's been a few months already, and it seemed so minor that I just can't recall.

This one was originally intended for screenwriters--especially those who want a decidedly commercial product--but it's useful for novelists and short story writers alike.
Those of you who were afraid to give beginners something to shoehorn their plot into are really going to hate this one--from Blake Snyder, writer of the fabulous '90s movie Blank Check among other screenplays--because it goes so far as to include specific wordcounts for each beat--originally page numbers for a screenplay which have been converted for our purposes.
All wordcounts assume a 100,000 word finished novel. Enjoy:

THE BLAKE SNYDER BEAT SHEET
Opening Image (1 - 1,000 words) – A visual that represents the struggle & tone of the story. A snapshot of the main character’s problem, before the adventure begins.
Set-up (1 - 9,100 words) – Expand on the “before” snapshot. Present the main character’s world as it is, and what is missing in their life.
Theme Stated (happens during the Set-up at around 4,550 words) – What your story is about; the message, the truth. Usually, it is spoken to the main character or in their presence, but they don’t understand the truth…not until they have some personal experience and context to support it.
Catalyst (at 10,920 words) – The moment where life as it is changes. It is the telegram, the act of catching your loved-one cheating, allowing a monster onboard the ship, meeting the true love of your life, etc. The “before” world is no more, change is underway.
Debate (10,920 - 22,714 words) – But change is scary and for a moment, or a brief number of moments, the main character doubts the journey they must take. Can I face this challenge? Do I have what it takes? Should I go at all? It is the last chance for the hero to chicken out.
Break Into Two [Choosing Act Two] (at 22,714 words) – The main character makes a choice and the journey begins. We leave the “Thesis” world and enter the upside-down, opposite world of Act Two.
B Story (around 27,300 words) – This is when there’s a discussion about the Theme – the nugget of truth. Usually, this discussion is between the main character and the love interest. So, the B Story is usually called the “love story”.
The Promise of the Premise (27,300 - 50,050 words) – This is the fun part of the story. This is when Craig Thompson’s relationship with Raina blooms, when Indiana Jones tries to beat the Nazis to the Lost Ark, when the detective finds the most clues and dodges the most bullets. This is when the main character explores the new world and the audience is entertained by the premise they have been promised.
Midpoint (at 50,050 words) – Dependent upon the story, this moment is when everything is “great” or everything is “awful”. The main character either gets everything they think they want (“great”) or doesn’t get what they think they want at all (“awful”). But not everything we think we want is what we actually need in the end.
Bad Guys Close In (50,050 - 68,250 words) – Doubt, jealousy, fear, foes both physical and emotional regroup to defeat the main character’s goal, and the main character’s “great”/“awful” situation disintegrates.
All is Lost (at 68,250 words) – The opposite moment from the Midpoint: “awful”/“great”. The moment that the main character realizes they’ve lost everything they gained, or everything they now have has no meaning. The initial goal now looks even more impossible than before. And here, something or someone dies. It can be physical or emotional, but the death of something old makes way for something new to be born.
Dark Night of the Soul (68,250 - 77,350 words) – The main character hits bottom, and wallows in hopelessness. The Why hast thou forsaken me, Lord? moment. Mourning the loss of what has “died” – the dream, the goal, the mentor character, the love of your life, etc. But, you must fall completely before you can pick yourself back up and try again.
Break Into Three [Choosing Act Three] (at 77,350 words) – Thanks to a fresh idea, new inspiration, or last-minute Thematic advice from the B Story (usually the love interest), the main character chooses to try again.
Finale (77,359 - 99,100 words) – This time around, the main character incorporates the Theme – the nugget of truth that now makes sense to them – into their fight for the goal because they have experience from the A Story and context from the B Story. Act Three is about Synthesis!
Final Image (99,100 - 100,000 words) – opposite of Opening Image, proving, visually, that a change has occurred within the character.
THE END

If you liked that, you can find a huge list of movies analyzed using this beat sheet on Blake Snyder's website right here, or you can read the full Save the Cat book. Further, on Jami Gold's website, there's a page with worksheets for writers, found here, that also includes a Save the Cat spreadsheet for novels. [Click here to directly download the .xls version.]
Further advice for beginners (All links go to self posts on /writing):

1. China Miéville on Novel Structure for Beginners
   
2. Neil Gaiman's Advice for Beginners
   
3. Dan Harmon's Story Structure 101: Super Basic Shit