Agatha's Monotony
The clock read 7:15 a.m., and as always, Agatha Harkness walked through the gates of Westview Institute with her impeccable demeanor. Gray suit, black heels, old necklace, in one hand a expresso andin the other a folder filled with perfectly organized notes. There was no room for chaos in her world—not in her classroom, neither in her personal life.
She walked through the silent hallways, savoring those few moments of calm before the students flooded the space with laughter, gossips, and hurried footsteps. Her heels echoed with authority, and every colleague who crossed her path offered a brief greeting that she rarely returned. “Good morning, Professor Harkness.” A slight nod was enough as a response. Her world was one where social interactions were kept to a necessary minimum, and respect was measured by the distance she maintained from others.
When she entered the faculty lounge, the 7:20 coffee was already brewed. Agatha wants another coffee so she poured herself a cup and sat in her usual spot by the window, away from the chatter. It was a ritual she repeated every morning, a routine as precise as a Swiss clock. From her vantage point, she observed the other teachers arriving with less punctuality than herself. It was her moment to assess her surroundings, ensuring nothing had changed. But that peace never lasted long.
The first to arrive was Jen Kale, the art teacher. With her messy apron, paint-stained pants, and a smile Agatha deemed unnecessarily wide for such an early hour, Jen placed her tea cup on the table and approached her.
“Good morning, Agatha! Would you like to join the pottery workshop I’m hosting this afternoon? It could be fun.”
Agatha looked up from her cup with an expression somewhere between disdain and indifference.
“No, thank you. I prefer to dedicate my time to something… productive.” Her tone was so dry, but she didn't feel bad for that.
Jen let out a nervous chuckle before shrugging and moving to another part of the lounge. Agatha observed her momentarily, wondering how someone so chaotic could manage a classroom.
Shortly after, Alice, the music teacher, entered humming a tune and greeting everyone enthusiastically. Alice always carried with her a carefree air that Agatha found almost offensive.
“Agatha! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your students collaborated with mine to write a song based on a literary work? Something like… ‘The Ballad of the witches' road’?”
Agatha didn’t bother looking up from her notes.
“I’d prefer my students focus on learning the difference between a sonnet and an elegy before attempting to compose songs.” The chill in her voice made even Alice, ever the optimist, hesitate for a moment before smiling and moving on.
Alice stepped back, murmuring something about “fostering creativity” as she made her way to the coffee pot. Agatha continued writing in silence, feeling a subtle sense of victory for having avoided another absurd idea.
Finally, at 7:45, Lilia, the school’s principal, entered. Her presence was unmistakable: tall, impeccably dressed, with a gaze that could pierce through the firmest of convictions. She approached Agatha with her characteristic air of urgency.
“Professor Harkness, we need to discuss Literary Week. This year, we’re aiming for something more interactive. Perhaps a collaboration with art and music could be a good idea.”
Agatha let out a soft sigh and closed her folder. She thought it was the worst way to start the day.
“Lilia i am on it, don't worry at all.”
Lilia raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. She knew Agatha well enough to understand that pushing too hard would only result in greater resistance.
Before leaving, Lilia made an offhand comment that Agatha deliberately ignored: “Perhaps the arrival of our new English teacher will bring a fresh perspective to your department.” Too engrossed in organizing her notes, Agatha dismissed the remark without much thought.
When the clock struck 8:00, Agatha rose with her usual punctuality, adjusted her blazer, and headed to her classroom. As she walked, she couldn’t help but reflect on how each day at the institute felt like a repetition of the last. But that was exactly what she liked: stability, control, predictability.
What Agatha didn’t know was that her standard routine was about to be disrupted. A new teacher was about to join, bringing with her chaos that even Agatha Harkness couldn’t foresee. As the first bells of the day echoed through the halls, a buzz of student chatter about “the new teacher” filled the air. But Agatha, in her perfectly balanced world, didn’t bother to listen. For now.