The New Teacher

I was sitting in my classroom in ninth grade, wondering what all the noise was about, when I heard that we had a new Agricultural Science teacher.
His name was Mr. David. He was the proprietor's son and had come to teach our class while our regular teacher was on leave.
When he walked in, the classroom became unusually quiet. He was tall, well-dressed, and carried a textbook and a marker. He introduced himself before beginning the lesson.
When the bell rang, he asked us to submit our notes. Mine wasn't finished. As the class assistant captain, I was asked to carry some books to his office. I dropped them off and quickly returned to class without saying much to him.
A few days later, he noticed that my notes were incomplete. He asked why I hadn't finished them, and I admitted that I didn't particularly enjoy Agricultural Science.
He told me to stay after school and complete the work.
I wanted to complain, but I agreed.
After class, he asked me to follow him to his office. He sat down, looked through my notebook, and calmly explained what I had done wrong. By the time I left, I understood the topic better.
Something changed after that.
I began visiting his office to return books and ask questions. Sometimes we talked about school, and he encouraged me to take my studies seriously. I soon realized he was one of those teachers who seemed to know almost everything. He was popular among the students and had done exceptionally well in his own examinations.
Slowly, I found myself looking forward to his classes.
Then Tolu started following me to his office.
At first, I wondered why.
Later, I realized she liked him too.
We weren't particularly close before, but our shared interest in the same teacher unexpectedly brought us together. Eventually, we started talking more.
What I didn't understand then was that my feelings were never going to become the love story I imagined.
They were simply feelings I had to learn how to carry—and eventually let go.