A Homeroom Teacher

On a September morning, sunlight filtered through the glass windows of the school building, casting mottled shadows on the floor. The air was filled with the scent of fresh ink from new textbooks and the faint fragrance of milk on the children — a scent unique to the first day of school. My name is Alice Collins. I am the Head teacher of Class 2, Grade 3, and at this moment, I stand at the podium, methodically handing out textbooks to the children. "Students, once you receive your textbooks, please check the page numbers and make sure no pages are missing." As I handed out the books, I softly reminded them. The children eagerly took their textbooks; some flipped open the covers impatiently, while others held the books carefully in their arms, their faces full of anticipation for the new semester. Just as the last textbook was handed to the final student, my mobile phone suddenly began vibrating nonstop. My heart skipped a beat—so many things happen on the first day of school, and I feared something might go wrong. I walked to the classroom door, gently closed it, and pulled out my phone. The screen was filled with notifications from the parent group chat. Opening the parent group chat, a striking message immediately captured my attention. The message was from Linda Carter, mother of Dylan Carter, a student in the class, who is usually quite active in the group chat. Her words carried clear dissatisfaction: "Teacher Collins, what kind of textbooks are these you sent? The pages are so thin, and the printing's blurry! How can children learn with books like this?" I frowned slightly and quickly responded, "Ms. Carter, hello. These textbooks were uniformly purchased by the Education Department, and each one meets national standards. If you think there's a problem with the textbooks, I can help you contact the relevant department at the Education Department to look into it. Would that be okay?" No more than ten seconds after the message was sent, Linda Carter's reply appeared, her impatience nearly spilling through the screen: "Verify? Teacher Collins, my Dylan needs this textbook for class tomorrow. By the time you finish verifying, it'll be far too late!" Immediately afterward, she sent another message, her tone firm: "Teacher Collins, you must take responsibility for this! Tomorrow morning, you will personally go to the bookstore and get a new set of textbooks for my Dylan. And be sure all the book covers are properly wrapped, understood?" Other parents in the group, seeing this, quietly began to murmur among themselves. One parent said, "I looked over my child's textbook; the paper thickness and printing seem perfectly normal—no problems at all." Another parent urged, "Ms. Carter, please don't get so worked up. If there's an issue, we can talk to the teacher calmly—there's always a way to resolve it." But Linda Carter completely ignored these voices and kept flooding the group chat with messages dripping in arrogance: "What do you all know? My Dylan has always used imported things, all top quality. These ordinary textbooks aren't fit for him." "My husband is Mike Lewis, the richest man in J City. We lack nothing. If Teacher Collins can't get these textbooks changed, I'll have the school replace you immediately!" I looked at the words on the screen, feeling a sudden wave of helplessness. I took a deep breath, doing my best to keep my tone calm as I replied, "Ms. Carter, ordinarily, replacing textbooks and covering books are the parents' responsibilities. I'm afraid I can't personally assist with those tasks.""However, I can send you the addresses of several reputable bookstores nearby, where you can conveniently purchase them." After a brief pause, I added, "Also, flaunting wealth in the parent group chat isn't really appropriate.""Our parent group is primarily meant for discussing the children's education and working together for their growth, not for one-upmanship."