First Day, First Rule Violation

The room change had been posted on a note on her door: Course 204, Building B, Room 4.An annex, set slightly apart; a gravel path, tall windows, the smell of old wood and warm air from the heating system. Victoria Chapell paused for a second on the threshold. Everyone was there. Not ‘almost’ everyone, but everyone. They were all on time, sitting upright, notebooks on the table, pens at the ready, and a stack of signed contract forms in a neat folder right at the front.

Noah stood up when she entered. Not in a silly way. Like someone who took their role seriously. “Good morning, Ms. Chapell.”

“Good morning,” said Victoria, and the surprise was written all over her face before she could hide it. “You’re all here.” “All of us,” Sofia confirmed quietly. Victoria closed the door, set down her bag, and smiled genuinely. Affectionately, sternly, and at that moment, above all, happily. “I’m glad. Very glad, in fact.”

“We worked late yesterday,” Noah said, “and we want to follow the rules. Do the rules really apply to everyone? Even to you?”

Victoria nodded without hesitation. “Of course. I signed the contract, too. Rules that apply to only one side aren’t rules. They’re just orders.”

Maya raised her hand. “Should we really enforce the violations like that? That’s pretty extreme. I mean, really extreme.”

Victoria took a deep breath. She thought about her studies, about the principal in the hallway: If you don’t stay, the students have to leave. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. Rules are rules. If we write them down and then interpret them based on our mood, we might as well not have the contract at all, it’d just be my whims. And if we all just stick to the rules there’s no need for penalties anyway.”

A few glances swept across the room. No jokes. Just a strange, polite attentiveness, a strange buzz that was hard to pin down. Then Maya said, quite matter-of-factly, “Okay. Then I have to bring something up. You’re wearing a very nice dress, Miss Chapell… but your dress doesn’t cover your knees.”

Victoria laughed, a brief, involuntarily spasm. “Oh, yes- That’s true. It’s warm, and…”

Maya shook her head. “The rules say that dresses must always cover the knees.” Now Victoria wasn’t laughing anymore.

Noah picked up the old original booklet from the table, as carefully as if it might turn to dust at the slightest misstep. “There’s even a penalty for that.”

Victoria suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. Her cheeks were flushed, her fingers chilly. She held out her hand. “C- Can I take a look?” Noah pushed the booklet towards her across his desk. It was still the old original, on the verge of falling apart, the spine broken, the pages warped, the school founder’s stamp as pale as a reproach. Victoria reached out a hand to carefully pick it up, but she worried it might turn to mulch at her touch. Before she could take the old paper, Maya spoke up, and Miss Chapell let her hand sink down unless she ruined the booklet.

“We were at the library yesterday and made a copy for everyone. The woman at the library said the originals mustn’t get damaged because they’re the last ones. Would you like to borrow my copy just to be safe?”

Victoria looked up. There it was again: That pride she couldn’t shake. How responsibly these kids treated other people’s property. They’d preemptively made copies instead of taking risks. How could their previous teachers have abandoned them? “That’s great,” she said quietly, and she meant it. She gently pushed the original back to Noah. “You’d better return the originals. That was a very good idea of yours. I’m proud of you.”Maya handed her the copy. Fresh toner. Clear print. At the bottom it read School Rules, 1970. Victoria read it and turned pale.

Levi leaned forward. A smile ghosted on the corners of his mouth, which he tried to conceal. “What does it say?”

Victoria cleared her throat. Her voice remained calm, but it wasn’t light anymore. “Uhm, ahem, Section 7.1. Dress code. Every skirt or dress must reach to below the wearer’s knees.” She paused. The class waited, gently leaning forward. The air gradually disappeared from the room. “Penalty for a first offense: The offender m- must take off the garment in rules-breach and cut it up in front of class. Afterward, the offender must wear a sign around their neck that reads: I have broken a rule. Should anyone inquire, she is obligated to answer what she did wrong. The offender shall be forbidden from covering — or altering their attire for the purposes of obscuring the penalty — for the remainder of the school day. This measure serves to uphold the standard of decency expected at this institution and to deter future misconduct."

Victoria trembled slightly. “Th- This is a joke,” she said. “Right?” Nobody laughed, unfortunately.

The principal’s words echoed in her head, clearer than she would have liked. Girls’ school for difficult students. We don’t like to look back on that past. There was no updated version of the rules — they had been unable to find any more recent than 1970 — so officially the old ones were still in force. This came from a time when humiliation was still allowed to be called pedagogy. Whoever used to run this place should not have been allowed around young girls.

Noah looked at her, not scornfully, but like a model pupil who took the teacher at her word. “What are you going to do now, Miss Chapell? Break the school rules on the first day of the project, and there are no consequences? Is that what we’re supposed to learn from this? That agreements are valid until they become inconvenient? Shouldn’t rules apply to everyone — including you?”

Victoria stood there in the pretty dress that reached just above her knees, the rules booklet in her hand, and a stack of contracts signed with twenty named on the table in front of her. She’d told them on the first day she wouldn’t be leaving, and that rules were rules, not just dictates she handed out at her own whim. Now the class was waiting for her to prove both statements true, or break that trust.