Episode 7

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long sigh of relief. Finishing the paper wasn’t as bad as I thought, but the frustration from earlier still lingered. The memory of Dr. Alarcon’s dismissive tone played in my mind like a broken record.

"Whatever," I muttered to myself, tossing my pen onto the desk. "She won’t win this one."

Since I didn’t have anything else to do, I started scrolling through Facebook. Well, I got a bit curious about Professor Sungit, so I searched her name on FB.

Her profile popped up almost immediately. I stared at her profile picture—a formal shot of her in a blazer, arms crossed, and a stern expression that matched her reputation. Her posts were mostly about educational topics and achievements.

"Huh, so she’s one of those professors who’s active online," I muttered to myself. As I scrolled further, I noticed a few pictures of her at a coffee shop, smiling faintly.

"Wait, she actually smiles?" I blinked in surprise. This wasn’t the Professor Sungit I knew in class.

(The word "sungit" or "masungit" in Tagalog can be translated to "grumpy," "snappish," or "ill-tempered" in English. It describes someone who is unfriendly, irritable, or easily annoyed.)

I studied the pictures on Dr. Alarcon's Facebook profile, curiosity mingling with my lingering irritation. The sight of her at the coffee shop, smiling faintly, was a stark contrast from the stern, unapproachable professor I knew.

"So, she's not as grumpy as she acts in class," I murmured to myself, still a bit puzzled by this revelation. Perhaps there was more to this strict and unyielding professor than met the eye.

A few hours later, Jenna finally got back to the dorm, and we spent the rest of the day doing our own things.

The next day, I was already in Professor Sungit's class, having finished my other subjects. Well, her class was always my last for the day, which was better in a way—I could go home afterward and finally release all the stress she caused me.

When dismissal came, everyone left the room, leaving just me and her behind. I handed her my papers and waited for her feedback, anxiously watching her expression as she flipped through the pages.

She adjusted her glasses and glanced at me. ''You finished this quickly,'' she said, her tone as neutral as ever.

I nodded. ''Yes, ma'am. I made sure to follow all the instructions.''

She hummed, her eyes scanning the last page. 'Not bad,' she said, and for a moment, I almost thought I saw a flicker of approval on her face.

''So… does that mean I did well?'' I asked cautiously.

Dr. Alarcon looked up at me, her expression unreadable. "It’s a good effort," she said simply, closing the papers and placing them neatly on her desk. "You followed the instructions, and the content is satisfactory. However, there’s always room for improvement."

I nodded, swallowing the urge to ask for more praise. Knowing her, that was probably the closest I’d get to a compliment. "Thank you, ma’am," I said, keeping my tone respectful.

She glanced at her watch. "If that’s all, you may go now."

"Ahh, wait..." I suddenly called out to her, not even sure why I did.

Professor Sungit stopped mid-step, turning to face me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?" she asked, her tone as sharp as ever.

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for something to say. "Uh... I just wanted to ask... Did you really think my work was okay? Like, honestly?"

She stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out my intentions. "If I said it was acceptable, then it is. I don’t sugarcoat my words," she replied curtly.

"Right," I muttered, scratching the back of my neck. "Thanks again, ma’am."

She gave a small nod before walking out of the room, leaving me standing there. I couldn’t tell if I felt relieved or just more confused.

The interaction with Dr. Alarcon was a strange mix of relief and frustration. She had given me a compliment of sorts, but it was so cryptic and sparse that I couldn't tell if it was genuine or just a formality. The way she always seemed guarded and distant made it hard to get a read on her.

"Hmm… maybe there's more to her than just being a strict professor," I thought to myself as I gathered my things and headed out of the classroom.

Today, I’m going home alone again, and guess what—I’ll have to commute because, well, as we remember my car got scratched yesterday thanks to my professor or well to my carelessness. I had it sent for repairs, and as usual, Mom and Dad scolded me again.

I let out a sigh as I waited for the jeepney, the weight of their words still lingering in my head. They weren’t wrong, of course, but it didn’t make the scolding any easier to take.

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm orange hue over the city streets. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, standing on the corner where the jeepney would pick me up. The hum of vehicles and the chatter of passersby filled the air, blending into a kind of urban symphony.

I thought back to Professor Sungit, the memory of her faint nod playing over and over in my head. Not bad, she’d said. For someone as sharp-tongued as her, that was practically high praise. Still, her guarded demeanor was hard to decipher. Was she really just a strict professor, or was there something she was hiding behind all that formality?

:))

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