The provisor

The next morning, I think about how to reveal the truth on the subway.

I first think about taking five or ten minutes out of class to calmly explain what really happened, to settle the problem once and for all, but that won't work. First, because I doubt any teacher will agree to let me interrupt their class. Second, I really don't want to stutter again after what happened yesterday.

So I have to find a solution that doesn't involve speaking. But of course! I could simply send an explanatory message on the class group. So I start writing, and I stop when I remember that not everyone has joined the WhatsApp group yet.

So I'll have to speak in front of everyone.

When I get to school, I have an idea. I'm going to the principal's office to ask permission to interrupt a class for a few minutes, and at the same time, talk to him about his broken promise.

"Good morning, Principal, can I come in?"

"Of course, Mr. Lombard, come in!"

You must find it strange that we can get in as easily as I just did. There's a reason for all this. Since I'm in a school with only a few classes—remember, there are only two classes per grade—there are far fewer students than in a larger school, which means the principal can see us more often.

"Is your first day of school going well?"

Oh, and he's also one of the only people in the school who addresses students formally, so it took me a while to get used to it.

"Yes, well, you could say it could have gone better."

"Really? How so?"

"Do you remember the promise you made to me last year, just before classes ended?"

"What promise are you talking about? I don't remember making one to you. Not to you or to any other student."

"How could you not have remembered?"

"Oh! You know! At my age, my memory is slowly starting to play tricks on me, so it's normal for me to forget things..."

"Well, I can understand that you might have forgotten, but still, you should have at least written down somewhere that you made me a promise."

"Speaking of promises, what was that promise?"

"You were supposed to make sure I was in the same class as Ronald, and also, if possible, some other friends of mine. That was your promise."

"Oh, excuse me, I totally forgot that!"

"Would it be possible to put me in the other class, in 10th grade A?"

"I'm sorry again, but that's impossible."

"What do you mean, impossible? You promised me!"

"I know, but there's nothing I can do about that."

"But you're the school principal! How come you can't do anything about it?"

"It's simple. The classes have already been set up, and we can't add new students to the classes. This is because we can't change the class on your student account during the year.

Anyway, even if it were possible, the classes are already quite full, and if we added even one student, I think traffic would become very difficult. So I regret to say that I can't do anything for you at this time, sorry."

"Ah, to be honest, I was kind of expecting it. Even so, I was hoping things could be sorted out, but I have to get used to it. I also came because I wanted to ask you for permission."

"Permission for what?"

"You see, Arthur? Following his suspension and subsequent repeat, a rumor, using evidence created by artificial intelligence, began to spread, claiming that I was the one who reported his cheating."

"But that's absurd! You had absolutely nothing to do with it! And I know what I'm talking about; I'm the one who kicked him out because I found hundreds of cheat sheets that had fallen out of his schoolbag on the eve of the Brevet Nationale exam."

"Exactly, that's absurd! To resolve this problem, I thought the best solution would be to explain in front of the two second-year classes what really happened, and demonstrate that the evidence is false."

"So how do you plan to do this?"

"I'm thinking of speaking between the two 10th grade classes at the door that connects them. I would therefore like you to please allow me between 5 and 10 minutes of class time from one of the teachers we have today."

I'll clarify in case you haven't understood. The two second-year classes are connected by a door, which would allow me to address both classes at the same time.

"Mhhh, personally, I'm not against it. After all, it's partly because of me that all this is happening to you. However, I doubt it would be so easy to set up."

"Why not?"

"First of all, I'm not sure the teachers will agree. Secondly, you'll probably have a little trouble speaking in front of fifty students while keeping them focused and listening to what you're saying. So I'm going to have a message written on the Digital Workspace that I'll send to all the second-year students to clarify things."

"Thank you very much! I'm really grateful. I'll write you a message later with the basic points to cover and also some requests to prevent this situation from escalating."

"No worries, but the deputy headteacher will write you this message. You see, I'm quite busy right now. You're not the only one having problems with your class."

"Thank you, thank you again! Have a good day!"

I then leave the office, full of hope, but it's only an illusion. I didn't know at that time that I had made one of the worst decisions of my life.