An empty classroom, the lights turned off, with only the natural light of the bright sun shining through the somewhat dirty windows lighting the room. Once-great teacher is at his desk, packing his possessions into a cardboard file box. His demeanor reflects a great burden almost physically weighing him down. He picks up a picture of his late girlfriend. He decides to sit down for a minute, to collect himself for the rest of the day. From the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulls a bottle of liquor and a small glass. Pouring himself a few fingers of the murky liquid, he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. Everything is quiet. The only sounds are his breathing.
Flash back to some previous time. The teacher is in the middle of class, demonstrating to his students the significance of interpersonal relationships. Some of the students are jaded in typical teenage fashion, and make it obvious to the class their distaste for the material. Amongst scoffing and snickers from the 'rebellious' crowd, the teacher maintains his calm, cool state. Eventually one student interrupts his presentation to interject a remarkably insightful, if rude, comment. The teacher pauses to think, then responds in kind, with insightful advice layered in a sarcastic coating. The class laughs as a whole, and the teacher resumes his lecture.
Back to present. Teacher has the bottle half finished, and sitting behind his desk, he puts his head down into his hands and sobs.
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