Teacher, don't cry out in pain when I rape you.

When I was young, I heard elders reciting the *Three Character Classic*, and I remember a line: "If a child is not raised and taught, it is the father's fault; if the teaching is not strict, it is the teacher's laziness." Now, more than a decade later, Confucius's words have long since vanished with his body, forgotten and forgotten. Yet another line, "If a student doesn't learn well, it's the teacher's laziness," is proclaimed with ever-increasing frequency and intensity. Haven't you heard those educators casually slap their lips and proclaim, "There are no bad students, only bad teachers"? Haven't you heard how many similar "famous sayings" and "truths" have been derived from this "profound truth"? I'm in a bad mood and didn't want to list them all, but I'm afraid those well-fed and drunken "educators" will pin the blame on me. So, I have no choice but to grit my teeth and present you with some facts I've witnessed to broaden your horizons and change your perspective.

A female colleague of mine became a homeroom teacher right after starting her job. This is normal. I don't know about other institutions, but in schools, young teachers, especially those just graduated from university, are given heavy responsibilities, regardless of gender. My colleague is quite capable and hardworking, so her class achieved the highest overall score among parallel classes in the year-end exam, which was indeed a cause for celebration for her. However, what happened next plunged her from the clouds of happiness into the abyss of pain, leaving her restless and unable to eat or sleep, suffering in silence.

Here's what happened: there was a boy in her class. How would you describe this student? To put it simply, he was "academically and morally deficient." What exactly did he mean by "academically deficient"? Well, during the final exam, while everyone else was nervously working on the questions, he was drooling and fast asleep. And what exactly did he mean by "morally deficient"? Let me just mention one thing: during class, my colleague was banging on the desk asking questions. But when she bent down to explain, he stared at her drooping collar and leered, "Wow! What a big pair of 'two-pieces'!"

Needless to say, a student like that wouldn't have good grades on his "Comprehensive Quality Report Card." His homeroom teacher, my colleague, carefully filled out the report cards and distributed them to all the students, including the boy, after the closing ceremony. The students went home, and everything seemed fine. But that evening, the boy's father called, saying his son had run away from home, taking 200 yuan and leaving a note that read, "Dad, I didn't do well on my final exams. I'm afraid you'll beat me, so I had to leave you. Don't look for me; you won't find me anyway."

I don't want to go into the details, but my young female colleague searched the streets for the "runaway" student that night. The student's parents had come to the school and her house, shouting and threatening to kill her entire family if they didn't find their son. That wasn't all. The next day, he even filed a complaint with the local education bureau. His reasons seemed quite compelling—"How can you teachers 'teach according to aptitude'? As a homeroom teacher, you should have a comprehensive understanding of your students. My son has a weak constitution; didn't you, as his homeroom teacher, know that? Why did you fill in a grade he couldn't accept…?" So, our education bureau ordered the school to immediately search for the student; so, my school ordered my colleagues to immediately search for the student; so, my colleagues searched day and night.

Fortunately, heaven had eyes. On New Year's Eve, a dozen or so of us young teachers went out together and finally "intercepted" the student in an internet cafe. I wondered, what would have happened to my colleague if we hadn't found him? Probably something terrible? I didn't dare think about it.

Coincidentally, the following summer's final exams. It was still one of my young colleagues, but this time he was a man. Perhaps because he had personally participated in the "encirclement and interception" of a "runaway" student, he had a deep understanding of the phrase "teaching according to aptitude." When filling out students' "Comprehensive Quality Report Cards," he inflated the grades of several students with particularly poor "psychological resilience" to varying degrees.

All the students in this colleague's class obediently went home; not a single one "ran away." However, the next day, several parents, hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder, rushed to the school, saying, "We pay to send our children to school to learn knowledge. At the end of the semester, we all want to see how well our children have learned, but you teachers are using fake grades to fool us!" These words sent shivers down the spines of the entire school building. Although the school tried its best to explain, the parents, itching for a beating, still grabbed my colleague and beat him. Was that all? No! The "righteously indignant" parents went to the Education Bureau to complain. What was the result? Simply put, my colleague was publicly criticized throughout the city and had to make a public apology at the teachers' conference at the beginning of the fall semester.

The English teacher in my class was a female college graduate from out of town who was "volunteerly teaching." How to describe this teacher? In four words: "gentle and beautiful." There's a boy in my class who, although only 16, is tall and strong, and somewhat precocious. Actually, it's perfectly normal for a precocious boy to have a crush on a pretty female teacher; it's nothing new. However, this "precocious" boy's behavior is a bit "over the top"—he writes a letter to the English teacher every day. I didn't call it a "love letter" because his vocabulary is terrible; the letters are filled with nothing but "pretty," "so pretty," or "too pretty"; nothing but "I like you," "I like you so much," or "I like you so much."

Liking a teacher is a good thing, but this student is causing my colleague a lot of trouble because every time he's in class, he deliberately makes loud noises and does strange things to get the teacher's attention. Eventually, he even disrupts the class, making it impossible for the teacher to teach properly. As the homeroom teacher, I've spoken to the boy several times. I'm in a difficult position; I don't dare tell him he has a crush on the teacher. I only tell him he shouldn't disturb the teacher's lectures or his classmates' listening. However, this student not only showed no remorse but became even more unruly. Several times, the class representative came to my office, saying that the boy was arguing with the English teacher again, and the classroom was in complete chaos. I had no choice but to call him to my office during English class—after all, he didn't want to learn English anyway. But after just one time, I was criticized—"Class time is students' learning time, and no teacher may deprive students of their right to learn for any reason!" So, the student arrogantly entered the classroom again.

Later, during English class, I moved a stool to the back of the classroom, my purpose obvious—to maintain classroom discipline. But a few days later, a red letter was slipped into my desk—"XX, your 'girlfriend,' I'm going to sleep with her!" I was stunned. I didn't even have a girlfriend! Who hated me so much that they wanted to harm my "future" girlfriend? When I showed it to the other teachers in the office, someone immediately guessed it was written by the boy. The reason he hated me was because he thought I was sitting in the classroom to protect the English teacher and my girlfriend. Although I was furious at his somewhat vulgar and shameless words, I thought he was just a precocious middle school student. Let alone writing such things, he'd probably said those violent things countless times, yet I'd never actually seen him kill anyone. So, I crumpled the letter, threw it in the trash, and never thought about it again.

I really don't want to talk about what happened afterward, but because I need to finish this article, I have to endure the pain and continue—one day later, my colleague fell ill. Because she was from out of town, she had no family to take care of her and could only lie in her dormitory. I temporarily covered her English class. Every mealtime, I brought her some food. Because it was difficult for her to get up, and I didn't want to ask her for her key, I always left the door ajar when I left her dormitory—I felt that the school was a civilized place, and a civilized place was naturally a safe place.

But to my utter surprise, one evening, after my Chinese self-study session, I went straight to English self-study (at our school, teachers must be in the classroom during evening self-study sessions, either tutoring students, reviewing homework, or administering exams, etc.). During English self-study, the boy's desk was empty. He hadn't asked me or the class monitor for leave, and none of the other students knew where he was. I called the security guard and told him to notify me immediately if any student wanted to leave. Then I went to study.

But after self-study, the security guard still hadn't notified me. I led the class in searching the campus several times, but we couldn't find him. Since we had to go to the third self-study session, we stopped looking. Suddenly, I remembered my colleague; she was on an IV drip at dinner time and hadn't eaten, and I wondered how hungry she was now.

When I rushed into my colleague's dorm room, I called her several times, but she didn't answer. Was she asleep or had she fainted from hunger? I turned on the light and took a closer look, and my soul nearly left my body—my colleague was lying on the bed, with only a corner of a blanket covering her stomach; the rest of her body was completely exposed, and I could tell at a glance that she was lying there naked!

I don't want to go into the details of what happened. My colleague was raped, raped by that boy—that's what my colleague said. But the boy's parents said—their son was only 16 years old, still a minor, and that he had always been very obedient and shy at home, never even letting him watch TV with kissing scenes, so how could he have done such a thing? Besides, there had been cases of morally corrupt teachers luring naive students into dormitories and molesting and raping them; if their son really had done that with the English teacher, then it must have been the teacher who raped their son.

Later, someone came to investigate, demanding that my colleague produce evidence of rape—unfortunately, the "evidence" my colleague produced couldn't prove she had been raped, or even "that thing"—because there was no semen! Must a perpetrator foolishly leave behind semen as evidence? Must proving rape require the perpetrator's semen? The logic seems clear to everyone, yet the investigators say—the suspect is a student! A middle school student! A middle school student who just turned 16! Did he have the audacity to rape his own teacher? Could he calmly put on a condom before raping her? Could he go to the third evening study session with a clear conscience after the rape?

So, what did that boy do during the second evening study session? Where did he go? The answer is—he went to smoke, under a magnolia tree in the school's botanical garden. The investigators went to the botanical garden, and sure enough, there was a pile of cigarette butts under the magnolia tree. They went to a shop, and the shopkeeper said that the boy did indeed buy a pack of cigarettes right after the first study session that night. All the evidence seems to prove the boy's innocence, but how do you explain the bloodstains on my poor colleague's sheets? —Was it an accident while she was masturbating? This speculation actually came from the mouth of that "innocent" and "shy" boy.

Later, the boy's parents even filed a lawsuit, claiming that the English teacher had ruined their son's good reputation and damaged their precious young heart. Moreover, I, as the homeroom teacher, was also implicated and sued—because I failed to actively search for the student when he was absent from the classroom during self-study, leading to this disaster.

In the end, my colleague returned to her hometown, and there were reports that she died of depression shortly after returning. As for me, the homeroom teacher, I received a city-wide public reprimand, thankfully without having to publicly apologize at a teachers' conference.

I don't want to list any more facts; I just want everyone to understand one thing—any "bad, improper, or inappropriate" behavior by students is the teacher's fault. Because students come to school to "learn well," and if they "don't learn well," or even "learn badly," isn't that the teacher's fault? Therefore, if you teachers are incapable of helping students "learn well," you are "incompetent," you are "unprofessional," and you are "negligent in your duties"! If your students "go astray," you should be scolded, beaten, and raped! And when you are raped, you are not allowed to cry out in pain!

Alas! I am speechless. I hope to use this article to mourn the tragic soul of my colleague.

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Teacher, don't cry out in pain when I rape you.

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