Chapter 2: The Report and the WhatsApp War

I was reported.

All the parents in the class jointly accused me of being irresponsible, demanding the school immediately remove me as class teacher and cancel my right to teach maths. The letter was so crowded with signatures, it looked like a wedding invitation list.

When the principal told me, it was like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

Since I’d taken over this class, I’d poured my heart and soul into it—exhausting myself, always putting students first, practically giving them my heart on a platter. In the staff room, colleagues joked I was more likely to be found with a red pen than with lunch.

And now the parents say I’m irresponsible.

“The parents in your class have a very hardline attitude. They even said that if the school doesn’t meet their demands, they’ll report it to the State Education Board.”

My face grew grim.

The principal looked at me seriously: “Teacher Rohan, abhi aapko apne upar sochna chahiye. Agar sach mein koi problem nahi thi, toh sab parents milke complain kyun karte?” His tone was that of a sabha judge, expecting me to plead guilty and touch his feet in shame.

Unbelievable.

How did this become my fault?

I wanted to argue, but the principal waved me away impatiently: “Bas, ab jao aur school ki decision ka wait karo.” The finality in his voice reminded me of elders dismissing any explanation with a curt ‘Ho gaya, ab chup.’

Leaving the principal’s office, I hesitated outside the door, wiping sweat from my brow, heart pounding. I remembered my own school days—how teachers were treated with respect, almost like family. Now, I was just another name in a complaint letter.

The corridor felt endless, the world closing in, afternoon sun too harsh through the dusty windows.

Finally, I couldn’t hold it in and posted in the class WhatsApp group:

“Dear parents, since I became class teacher, I’ve always put the class first. I won’t claim I’ve given everything, but I’ve always been diligent. If you think I’ve overlooked something, you can communicate with me directly. Bas, aise misunderstandings and accusations really chill the heart of an educator.” My fingers trembled as I typed, staring at the screen as if hoping it could undo everything.

A few minutes later, a reply:

Kabir’s mother: “Misunderstanding? Hum galat bol rahe hain kya? Aap toh har doosre din hospital chale jaate ho—yeh sahi hai kya? Kisne aapko yeh chhutti lene ka haq diya? Final year hai, madam/sir! Would you die if you didn’t go to the hospital?”

A barrage of blunt questions left me dumbfounded. Her words were sharp like green chillies in sambhar, burning long after the message ended.

Another parent sent a string of angry red-faced emojis, and someone else forwarded a meme about ‘greedy teachers’—the kind that usually goes viral in family WhatsApp groups.