Pentagram University was enveloped in a tense silence as students prepared for another class with the feared literature teacher, Carmilla Carmine. Vaggie and I were sitting in the front row, exchanging glances of anticipation as we waited for class to start.
Carmilla entered the classroom with her usual imposing bearing, her piercing gaze scanning the room. The room immediately calmed under her presence, knowing that any show of defiance would be met firmly. The only thing she could hear was the clicking of her heels as she approached her table.
"Good Morning Class!" -Carmilla greeted, her voice echoing in the room. "Today we will continue our analysis of 19th century romantic poetry. I hope everyone is ready to participate."
The students nodded silently, some eager for class and others simply captivated by Carmilla's presence. However, among them, a young man named Eric Johnson seemed determined to challenge her.
"And what if we are not interested in poetry?" Eric asked in a challenging tone, a mocking smile curling his lips.
The room fell silent, some students looking at Eric in disbelief. Vaggie and I exchanged worried and somewhat nervous glances, knowing that Eric was challenging the wrong person.
Carmilla approached Eric calmly, her expression impassive as she looked him straight in the eyes. "Poetry, Mr. Johnson, is an art form that deserves respect, regardless of your personal interests."
Eric, undeterred, sat up straight in his seat, a defiant look in his eyes. "I think you should know that my father is one of the major donors to this university. Without his generosity, this place would not be what it is today."
The class filled with an awkward murmur as the students processed Eric's statement. However, Carmilla did not show any signs of impression.
"The success of this university is not measured by the generosity of its donors, but by the dedication and effort of its students." -Carmilla responded calmly. "Everyone here has the potential to make a significant contribution to the world, regardless of their last name."
Carmilla's gaze was firm, her authority his indisputable. Eric, momentarily taken aback, was forced to acknowledge that his attempt to impress his teacher had failed, all his bravery had gone, he now looked like a lamb that had been sent to the slaughter.
The rest of the class passed without problems or insolence. Carmilla was a teacher that very few wanted to challenge because it was a fight they knew they had lost before it began.
Deciding not to prolong the conversation any further, Carmilla stood up from her desk gracefully and ended class. "That will be all for today, remember that you have to finish reading the remaining chapters on the romanticism of poetry in the 19th century. See you next week."
The class quickly dispersed, with some students murmuring among themselves about the confrontation between Carmilla and Eric. With a bit of bravery, Vaggie and I decided to approach Carmilla as she left the classroom, grateful and somewhat impressed by her calm but somewhat firm handling of her situation.