56: Chapter 59 The first signs of bullying, a cold supervisory assessment

Director Su Nianwei was wearing a pair of flat shoes today.

The pair of high heels soaked with rainwater yesterday had been left in the hotel bathroom to dry.

The leather on the shoes was as wrinkled as the corners of an eighty-year-old woman's eyes.

But her mood was even more wrinkled than those shoes.

A 13 million maybach, and a salary card balance of only a few thousand yuan.

These two numbers had been fighting in her mind all night.

Fighting until dark circles appeared under her eyes.

Director Su Nianwei sat in the last row by the window in Class 18.

A tablet computer was spread out on the desk.

The screen displayed a blank teaching assessment form.

Her plan for today had changed.

She wouldn't check the money first; she couldn't find anything anyway, so she would start with the people.

She would see if this Fang Jiming actually knew how to teach.

If his teaching level was also a piece of crap, then at least she could write a sternly worded rectification opinion from a professional standpoint,

It wouldn't be a wasted trip.

Fang Jiming stood on the podium.

Twirling a piece of chalk in his hand.

He was explaining the image translation of quadratic functions.

Director Su Nianwei's fingers hovered over the tablet screen.

Ready to record problems at any time.

But she found she couldn't write anything down.

Fang Jiming's teaching rhythm was too strange.

He didn't follow the order of the textbook, nor did he follow the arrangement of knowledge points in the syllabus.

He had taken the whole book apart and reassembled it.

Before explaining each new concept,

He would first throw out a question.

"Zhao Dazhuang, when you play games, if a character runs from point A to point B, does the path change?"

Zhao Dazhuang looked up from his phone.

"No, the map hasn't changed."

"Then what if I shift the entire map three grids to the right?"

Zhao Dazhuang reacted after a moment.

"Then the path is still the same; it's just that the start and end coordinates have changed."

"Congratulations, you just explained the core principle of image translation in plain language."

A burst of laughter erupted from below.

Zhao Dazhuang scratched the back of his head.

A look of bewilderment appeared on his face, as if he couldn't believe he had actually understood it.

Director Su Nianwei's fingers hovered over the screen for three seconds.

In the end, she didn't type anything.

She lowered her head and wrote a line of small notes in her paper notebook:

"His teaching methods are unconventional, but the students' concentration is exceptionally high."

The bell rang for the end of class.

Fang Jiming threw the chalk onto the podium.

"Ten-minute break. Go to the bathroom if you need to, drink water if you need to, and don't mess around in the hallway."

He picked up his thermos and walked out of the classroom.

Director Su Nianwei did not follow him out.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze sweeping over the thirty-eight students in the classroom.

Most of them were chatting.

A few were scrolling through their phones.

Lu Zihao was lying on his desk with his eyes closed, resting.

Wang Tiezhu was silently organizing his notes.

Everything looked normal.

Then, Director Su Nianwei's line of sight caught some movement in the corner.

In the second to last row by the wall.

Three girls with heavy makeup were gathered together, whispering something in low voices.

Director Su Nianwei recognized two of them, named Xia Rui and Liu Ya respectively.

Both were students marked as "disinterested in studies" on the roster.

She didn't remember the name of the third one.

But those fake eyelashes were long enough to fan someone.

The three of them had their eyes focused in the same direction.

Director Su Nianwei followed their gaze.

In the corner seat against the wall sat a thin, small girl.

Her hair was tied into a ponytail.

Her school uniform was washed until it turned pale.

The cuffs were long enough to cover half the back of her hands.

She was huddled in her seat, her presence so low she was almost blending into the wall.

Su Xiaoxiao.

Director Su Nianwei remembered the name.

The remarks column on the roster said she was a transfer student from out of town.

Xia Rui stood up and walked over.

Her movements weren't rough; they even carried a kind of nonchalant casualness.

When passing by Su Xiaoxiao's desk, she deliberately bumped into the notebook Su Xiaoxiao was writing in.

The notebook was knocked to the ground.

"Oops, sorry."

Xia Rui covered her mouth and chuckled.

The apology in her tone was fake enough to win an award.

Su Xiaoxiao bent down to pick it up.

Liu Ya happened to be passing by from the other side.

She stepped on the cover of the notebook.

"What kind of handwriting is this? It looks like worms crawling."

Liu Ya squatted down, picked up the notebook, and flipped through it.

She read the comments on it in an exaggerated tone.

"Teacher Su even commented 'made progress' for you. Where is the progress? Progress to the point of being able to write Chinese characters?"

The third girl laughed out loud in the back.

She raised her phone and took a picture of the notebook.

She swiped her thumb on the screen twice, probably sending it to some group chat.

Su Xiaoxiao reached out to grab the notebook.

Her lips moved.

"Give it to me."

"What did you say?"

Xia Rui deliberately leaned her ear in.

"Can you speak clearly with that accent of yours? I don't understand dialects."

Su Xiaoxiao's shoulders began to tremble.

Her hands retreated into her cuffs.

Her fingertips were clutching the edge of her uniform sleeves.

Clutching them so hard that the outline of her finger bones showed through.

Director Su Nianwei sat in the last row, seeing it all clearly.

Her fingers swiped rapidly on the tablet, typing a line of text.

The observation record for the break read:

"There is a clear phenomenon of cold bullying in the classroom. Three female students are subjecting a transfer student to verbal mockery and destruction of property. The incident lasted about two minutes. During this time, no other students intervened, and the substitute homeroom teacher is not present."

Director Su Nianwei paused after typing this line.

She added another sentence.

"There are serious loopholes in the daily management of this class. The substitute homeroom teacher lacks an effective intervention mechanism regarding student behavioral standards. The preliminary assessment is that class management is chaotic, with prominent risks of bullying, and the homeroom teacher is failing to act."

Director Su Nianwei: ( ꐦ ˘ ̀ ̀ ᴗ ˘ ́ ́ )

She closed the protective cover of the tablet.

Leaning back against the chair, she looked towards the classroom door.

She was waiting for Fang Jiming to return.

She wanted to see what kind of answer this educational genius would provide when facing a real class management problem.

Would he yell and scold the bullies, or would he punish both sides equally and try to smooth things over?

Or would he simply turn a blind eye and pretend it never happened?

Regardless of which one it was, she could add another piece of concrete evidence to her assessment report.

In the corner of the classroom.

Su Xiaoxiao picked up the dirty notebook from the floor.

Silently wiping the shoe print off the cover with her sleeve.

She didn't cry.

But she made herself even smaller.

So small that she curled into the gap between the desk and the wall, saving even the strength to run away.

The bell rang for class to start.

Fang Jiming walked back into the classroom carrying his thermos.

He stood still in front of the podium.

He scanned the whole class.

His gaze lingered for a moment on Director Su Nianwei's stern face in the last row.

Then his gaze shifted to the corner.

It shifted to the notebook with the dirty cover on Su Xiaoxiao's desk.

Fang Jiming showed no sign of anything unusual.

He unscrewed the thermos and took a sip of water.

He put the cup on the podium.

Then he pulled a stack of white sticky notes from the drawer.

Director Su Nianwei frowned.

What was he doing?

Fang Jiming pulled out the sticky notes and started handing them out to each row of desks one by one.

"Everyone, stop for a second."

His voice was as usual.

But the speed at which the classroom quieted down was faster than ever before.

Although this group of students was rowdy, after this period of training, they had formed a conditioned reflex.

That is, the less Teacher Fang got angry, the more complicated things would be later.

"We're going to do one thing next."