Rachel, A teacher - new enhanced training modules

Journal Entry – Monday, 18

First journal entry of the new semester. God help us all. I’m so sick of high school seniors and all their problems. Some days I wish I could go back in a time a decade and tell the me starting college to choose a different major. Preferably one that pays better.

The district has finally rolled out their shiny new professional development initiative: “NeuroCore Faculty Optimization Modules.” Fancy name for what is basically a daily five-minute brainwashing session wrapped in soft music and stock footage. Apparently, this is replacing our usual weekend training marathons and mandatory summer workshops. So, I should be thrilled. No more giving up Saturdays to sit in a fluorescent-lit cafeteria, on benches designed for kids, learning about digital citizenship or anti-bullying for the fiftieth time.

But honestly? This new system might be even dumber.

Here’s how it works: every morning, we log into the district portal, put on these cheap, uncomfortable “biofeedback-enabled” headphones, and sit still while the system plays us a module. Just five minutes. Supposedly painless. But it’s not like they’re teaching anything useful. Today’s module was titled “Cultivating Receptive Mindsets.” Which sounds like it should be about listening skills or communication or something. What I got was a voice like a sleep app narrator telling me to “invite unexpected input” and “relax the boundary between ego and rapport.” No context. No examples. Just that, on repeat, over ambient spa music and the occasional whisper I couldn’t quite catch. Supposedly it “overlays the information straight into the subconcious”, whatever that means.

And of course, the headphones are “smart.” They track pulse and attention or something, so if you try to minimize the program, or walk away from the computer, it’ll flag you. I found that out because mine vibrated at minute four. Yes—it vibrated. It scared the crap out of me. Apparently, I was too “mentally disengaged” for proper absorption. I was **** to start over.

Great. Now the headset’s tattling on me.

Principal Gerrold Anderson says this is all research-backed. “Modern cognitive entrainment strategies,” he said, like that means anything. I told him it sounds like someone duct-taped a TED Talk to a lava lamp and called it curriculum.

The only small mercy is that it’s short. Five minutes a day and we’re off the hook for weekend training. I guess that’s worth something. But it still creeps me out. I don’t like anything that tries to crawl into your brain without giving you the option to fight back. Even if it is just about classroom management or whatever.

Anyway. Training done. Still mostly sane. No sudden urges to “embrace flexibility” or “synchronize internal rhythms.” Whatever that means. I’m absolutely convinced this is just all silicon valley buzz word bullshit. Sort of like 3 years ago when Gerrold had us “embrace the blockchain” for our grading system. What an absolute shit show. Turned out our school computers had all been repurposed into crypto farmers by the company he got that software from.

So anyway, yea, mark my words. I’ll give every student an A if we don’t get an email by mid April saying that the Neurocore learning software is a bust and we have to make up all the training over the summer.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Tuesday, Aug 19

Second day of the semester and Greg Matthis is already reminding me why I lobbied so hard to keep him out of my class.

Unfortunately, that didn't stick. Greg’s back in my second period English class again. Again. He was supposed to graduate last year, but I filed that incident report last May and, shock of all shocks, the district actually listened. Probably because it was hard to ignore him being physically escorted out of the girls’ locker room after hours, shirt half-untucked, cheeks red, reeking of Axe body spray and poorly concealed guilt. He said he got “lost.” I said if you can find your way to porn sites in class, you can find your way to P.E. without detouring into a felony.

So, he got expelled. He hates me for it. I don’t care. Enjoy your year as a “super senior”, ass.

Anyway, I guess he’s decided to make this year as unpleasant as possible for both of us. He’s not subtle about it. Stares just a little too long at me or the girls in the class. Grins when I ask him a question and gives the dumbest answers he can think of. I’ve had gum stuck under my desk once already, and it’s only Tuesday. I know it was him.

Still reeks of drugstore body spray. Still “accidentally” bumps into the girls in the hallway. Still acts like school’s just an inconvenience between Reddit threads and masturbation.

But here’s the thing that’s really got me on edge: I overheard him talking to a couple of sophomore boys outside the vending machines this morning, going on about the NeuroCore training modules like they were a video game cheat code. He smirked and said, “My dad works for the company. He says it’s all about implanting stuff while your brain’s soft. Like a sponge.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost sprained something. The kid lies about everything—his uncle invented Bitcoin, his ex is a model, whatever. Him name-dropping a company executive is just another way to puff himself up in front of the freshmen. I doubt his dad even knows how to log into the parent portal, let alone run a software firm.

Still. Pretty off-putting that he’s getting so excited over some stupid training module. I bet he’s planning on trying to use it to cheat or something. Maybe zap the answers to the tests into his brain. Fat lot of good it’ll do him.

Whatever. As much as I think these are stupid, I’m not going to complain about having some free Saturdays.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Monday, Aug 25

God, If I hear the phrase “neural plasticity” from Gerrold one more time, I’m going to throw my NeuroCore headset under a bus. He has fully drunk the Kool-Aid from Neurocore. I’m not convinced he’s getting a kick back from them, maybe double if this garbage works.

Today’s module was about “emotional alignment in educational spaces.” Which, near as I can tell, is just a fancy way of saying “pretend to like your students more.” It had this soothing background music that looped for way too long, and this woman’s voice whispering affirmations like, “You are a safe and trusted figure,” and, “Your smile shapes young lives.”

Okay, fine. Better than listening to Sandra, the guidance counselor, drone through a two-hour PowerPoint on classroom empathy. But I swear this thing makes my eyelids heavier every day. I think I actually nodded off for a second mid-module. I woke up with a vague memory of flowers. Or bees. I don’t know.

Still, I’m going through the motions. I’ve got a report to sign off on at the end of each week saying I’ve “maintained emotional consistency.” Whatever that means. But hey, I got to sleep in on Saturday

Speaking of irritants, fucking Greg. That little shit hasn’t changed at all this past year. He’s been making some of the other girls uncomfortable again, leaning over their desks, cracking inappropriate jokes under his breath, just generally being a perv. I’ve had three girls in the past week ask to switch seats. Of course, he acts like he doesn’t notice anything wrong. Smiles like he thinks he’s charming.

He also keeps staring at me. Caught him staring down my blouse when I bent over to help another student with their essay. Like, yea I know I’m pretty curvy, but god damn kid, its not there for you, thank you very much. I’ve started wearing longer cardigans just to stop feeling his eyes on me every time I reach for the whiteboard. Today he dropped his pen under my desk during lunch duty and made a show of “accidentally” brushing my ankle when he picked it up. When I told him to knock it off, he actually had the audacity to wink at me. Like it was some inside joke.

I’ve talked to guidance about getting him reassigned to another English class, but no dice. Apparently every class is packed, so I’m just going to have to deal with it.

Oh, and get this, when Greg stopped by for his usual after-school dressing down, he tried to grab my ass. I put a stop to it immediately, obviously. I told him that kind of behavior isn’t okay, even if we’re alone. He backed off, but can you believe that kid? Honestly, I don’t know where he gets the nerve. Like, it was a typical meeting. I explained to him that his attitude wasn’t going to do him any favors in the class, told him that he’d already missed the deadline for the first essay from Friday, and we’d just started the standard student-teacher make out session when, BAM!, his hand slid down my back and started kneading my ass.

He ”apologized”, but it didn’t sound sincere, and he had that shit eating grin on his face the whole time. Honestly, I was half-tempted to skip the rest of the make out session. But rules are rules. Anyway, I decided to only give him 10 minutes today, and warned him another slip up and I’d be pushing for another expulsion. He just laughed.

Tomorrow’s module is titled “Mutual Trust: The Foundation of Learning.” I’m sure it’ll be a blast.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Monday, Sep 1

Ugh. I swear these modules are getting dumber. Today’s was something about "Emotional Reciprocity and Sensory Trust." No practical examples, just a slurry of buzzwords and diagrams that don’t even make sense unless you're half-asleep—which, to be fair, I usually am when I take them. Whatever. It's not like I can not do them. Gerrold is tracking completions. All about getting that kick back from Neurocore, I’m sure.

Greg's still being Greg. Again, I don’t know how I ended up being the one stuck with him again this term. Honestly I thought there was a policy about him being in my class, seeing as how I got him expelled. I brought it up to Gerold and he mumbled some shit about how, since I wasn’t the “victim” of Greg’s actions, it was still technically allowed. I think he’s just trying to cover for the scheduling error.

But fucking Greg…He still reeks of axe body spray, and his smile gives me the creeps, like he knows something I don’t. I absolutely loath his smug smirk more than anything. And the stares. Nothing I can really do about it, but fuck me, its so infuriating..

And, well…You know the morning routine by now. He comes in early, sits at the side desk while I prep, and I do the standard teacher routine. Most days it's easy enough, just slip my panties off under my skirt without missing a beat, unclasp my bra under my shirt without pulling anything over my head. I’m really getting good at that, actually. Should put it on my résumé: Efficient Discreet Undressing. Not that anyone here cares about efficiency.

Of course, he had to ruin it. I caught him sniffing them again. Right there at his desk, like I wouldn’t notice. I told him off for it, again. Told him if he’s going to act like a creep, he can do it somewhere I don’t have to watch. He just smirked and mumbled something like “Yes, ma’am,” which somehow made it worse.

I don’t know what’s wrong with that kid. Giving him my underwear is one thing, it’s just a standard part of morning duties. But that kind of behavior? Totally inappropriate.

Also, I hate how expensive teaching is. Buying school supplies is bad enough, but having to buy an entire new set of underwear every few weeks is absolutely going to bankrupt me. You’d think the school would at least reimburse me, but no.

That, and of course the stares from Greg. That smug grin. Like yea, I’m not wearing underwear while teaching. That’s just school policy, right? It doesn’t make it ok to look down my blouse.

Going to try one more time to get him removed from class. Maybe Mrs. Smith will take him as a transfer. She owes me.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Tuesday, Sep 9

God, Neurocore is going to be the **** of me. You’d think with all the money they’re pouring into this “direct-to-subconscious learning system,” they could at least make the user interface not look like it was designed by a bored intern. And don’t get me started on the glitch I’ve been dealing with all week. It keeps resetting my module timer if I so much as blink too long. So now I have to redo the entire “Emotional Regulation in Adolescent Environments” segment again tomorrow morning. Joy.

Greg continues to be a menace. He was loitering by the lockers again today, pretending to tie his shoes while staring directly up Jenna’s skirt. I warned him about this last week. Repeatedly. I warned him he’s going to get expelled again, but I’m not sure the threat carries any weight. Gerrold is probably too worried about the money from Neurocore to risk kicking out a student. I still say I did the right thing reporting him after I caught him slipping out of the girls’ locker room.

And of course, he had to act up this morning too. He came in for his usual start of day make-out session. (side note: why does the school need two student-teacher make out sessions? Is Greg’s learning not encouraged enough by one? Such a waste of time.) Anyway, It was just standard procedure. I took my underwear off, gave it to him, waited patiently while he gave it the customary sniff, and then I sat in his lap for the standard kissing. You know, tongues entwined, his hands groping me, slapping my ass. Just the normal stuff. Then, after that was done, I pulled off my top and hefted my tits for him to motorboat. Just typical school procedure.

But, I’ll be honest, what really bothers me is how much he drools. And he knows that, according to school policy, I’m technically not supposed to wipe the spit off my tits for the day. So, I decided to say something to him. I told him he needed to be a bit more cleanly, that I was sick of having his spit soak into my blouse all day.

And this asshole looks me square in the eyes, and hocks the nastiest loogie he could onto my chest. I’m talking phlegm and all. One of those TV show loogies where the kid sucks the phlegm and snot into their throat before spitting the huge gob of spit. And then he had the nerve to demand I rub it in. I mean, of course I did. As I already mentioned, its school policy that I cant wipe my tits clean. But the fucking nerve!

I got up off his lap, rubbed the spit into my tits, making sure he was watching as I did so, and then kicked him out of my classroom.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Wednesday, Sep 17

I’m really growing to despise Neurocore. Or, continuing to despise it. Honestly it might be worth giving up the 1 or 2 Saturdays a month for training to stop these annoying modules. This week so far its all been "Student Wellness Compliance – Manual Module", which, I’m led to believe is about being on the lookout for signs of neglect from the parents. Is the student bathing regularly, do they smell bad, stuff like that.

But you know who fucking still reeks on a daily basis? Greg. And let me tell you, I know this firsthand.

I get it. I really do. These hygiene checks are important. And Greg is borderline on it. (although for my money, I doubt its ****. He’s just a nasty ass teenager). But I absolutely hate this part of my job. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he comes to my office after he has 5th period gym. Then, he sits in my chair, and I have to remove his shoes and nasty gym socks, and lick his feet clean. Lucky me having 6th period as my planning period, so I’m free to help.

And I swear he does some stuff just to be difficult. Like, when I’m sucking the grime off his toes, he’ll push his foot up, trying to get as much of it into my mouth as possible, so I’m deepthroating it. Or rubbing his free foot against my chest. (school policy I have to be topless while doing this.)

I complained to him about his toenails today. Practically cut my tongue while I was flossing it between his toes. And what did he do? Had me trim them with my teeth. Absolutely gross. And he won’t allow me to use breath mints until after 9th period. Says he wants me to taste him all day. I’m pretty sure he only lets me use the mints during 9th period because he doesn’t want to taste his own foot funk.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Wednesday, Oct 8

I swear, Neurocore just keeps finding new ways to waste my time. This week’s gem? “Student Engagement: Mastering the Art of Oral Attention.” Honestly, it sounds like some bizarre self-help seminar, but no—it’s just another mandatory training module delivered straight to my subconscious via those stupid training modules. I guess the idea, apparently, is that I need to improve how I keep my students focused by “refining my verbal cues” and “enhancing oral communication techniques.” As if spending a decade in front of a classroom of teenagers hasn’t been enough to teach me everything I need to know.

Other than the training just DRAGGING I guess the only other real complaints I have is, as you’d expect, Greg. He’s still acting too familiar for my tastes. For example, today, during his morning blow job, he pulled out and busted his load all over my tits. Can you believe it? Again, he knows I’m not allowed to wipe my chest clean. When I called him out on it, he just shrugged, gave me that obnoxious grin (I fucking hate it more everyday), and called me his “Slut teacher”.

I fucking lost it! I think the anger in my eyes really scared him, since when I stood up, ready to bring the wrath of god to him, he actually flinched back. It didn’t last long though. As I stood there, giving him the reprimand he so deserved, rubbing his cum into my large tits, that stupid grin creeped back onto his face. And when I pulled my blouse on, the cum soaked right through. He actually laughed. This set me off again. I had to punish him in a way I don’t often like doing, but honestly? He left me ****. I had him bend over the desk, and I ate out his ass. I know, it’s a bit ****, but I feel like he really backed me into a corner. Hell, I was so focused on reprimanding him I barely even registered the bell ringing. Imagine my embarrassment, as the student I’m correcting has to stop me from gently tonguing out his asshole because class is about to begin? Needless to say I was mortified. I definitely won’t be making that mistake again.

—Rachel B.

Journal Entry – Saturday, Oct 18

Neurocore continues to be the bane of my existence. The latest set of modules is titled "Taking it All In: Maximizing Absorption and Engagement", and once again, is about the “whole body teaching experience”. Sounds like new age shit that’s going to be refuted in a few years. Honestly, worse than common core math, right?

And don’t get me started on Greg. Of course he moved into my house. Well…technically I signed it over to him so I guess I’m staying at his house. I would say it’s a LITTLE bit of growth on his part that he’s letting me stay here, but honestly, he hasn’t changed at all.

Like, take today for example. Of course he wanted to take advantage of having his “busty ass whore of a teacher available 24/7”. So we spent the entire day fucking all over the apartment. So much for having free time on Saturdays, right? Anyway, He was pounding my “tight little cunt” from behind slapping my “fuckable ass”, while I screamed and put on a show. (He likes when I do stuff like say “fuck me harder daddy, you’re so big. Whatever keeps the students invested, I guess.) Anyway, he blows his load inside me (third one of the day) and then has the nerve to tell me to get off birth control. Of course I lost it again. Ended up eating out his ass for nearly an hour to make sure I got my point across about respecting my boundaries.

Of course…now that I think about it, I’m not even sure why he was telling me that. School policy doesn’t allow teachers to be on birth control when their student-master is fucking them anyway. Ah well, looks like I’ll at least save some money cancelling that prescription.

Oh…gotta go. Greg is calling me again. I think he wants me to wrap my big fucking titties around his cock.

—Rachel B.