Those who can't do teach

In the hot morning Yamada scurried from the art academy to the main education institution, many students' files and papers in his hands.

'Well, First submit Sonia's surgery so her finals can be postponed from now. Then gotta handle the transferring students. Ah, I should fetch Ryu's transcript too.'

He ran through the mental to-list.

The teacher's hair was always slightly disheveled, his shirt was always half tucked in, and he may or may wore his socks inside out couple times.

When he wasn't teaching he ran around with undone papers and a memory made of metal.

He made it back to the art academy before the day ended so he had time to pin the papers on a giant hexagono black board. Faint flickers of light sparkled on the edge of the board as the physical papers got uploaded on the system.

'Are we going full paperless mode anytime soon? Honestly after living here for twenty years I still don't understand this land...'

The quite hesitant footsteps of couple students made him turn around.

They asked shyly to apply for additional credits. He didn't need to ask to know that their advisor Andre was too busy and too pissed off to do the job.

"Leave it to me then." He assured.

"Sorry for the troubles...And thank you teacher." The student who represented the group nodded respectfully before leaving.

He sighed, unpinned the uploaded documents, holding Ryu's transcript in his hands he almost groaned.

'A freaking honor student..' A flashback of Ryu coming early to practice, and staying late to practice crossed his mind.

He took a deep breath, un-frowned his eyebrows and talked himself out of being angry.

'It's fine, he had so much credits I was able to make him pass another semester. Andre will soon forget about him if he didn't already. And the moment he does another project I'll submit it as mandatory credits and boom, graduated.'

He almost nodded to himself. The advisor word was absolute, but every system had its loopholes.

'Andre wasn't always this crazy donuu what possessed him these last year or so...But it still such a shame!'

He put the transcript in Ryu's file and placed it in the archive, for now at least.

'He should be fine for the mean time...'He further reasoned.

The teacher couldn't help but think about his soon to be previous student now. The polite quite boy, with his big cardigan and glass chain.

---

The first time he had to manage the boy he thought Ryu's first exhibition will pass smoothly, and it did. Ryu managed to deal with customers well, selling most his makings for set price.

Except for the crazy conversation he had with his last buyer. He had sold a stained glass style lamp for 5000 moro and a glass sculpture of a pencil sharpener that functioned as a box too.

He blinked in confusion about the choice but actually too young ladies competed to buy it...Maybe auctions were his calling from the beginning.

The last piece of work was another glass sculpture, one made with a ‏tedious meticulous technique that was inspired from sand art bottles. Multiple colors of glass were melted together then shaped with a thin sharp tweezer like tool. In addition to the technique the subject itself was beautiful, a field of nature was locked inside a fish bowl.

'That project alone was enough to grant him a position on the honor list.'

The business man lifted the work carefully, eyes examining the small rocks, blueberry shrubs and the light blue sky above them.

"This's marvelous! But 20k moros is a little too high isn't?" The man questioned with a smile.

Ryu blinked, Yamada gulped, ready to mentally slap his forehead, he feared his student will go on and on about the technique, putting himself on the defense against the potential buyer. It was a quiz on it's own of some sort.

Ryu blinked again, he assumed calmness from his flat expression.

"I mean it'll evaluate for more than 20k with time." Ryu answered, too calmly.

Yamada slapped his forehead internally, wishing the boy rambled about his technique instead.

The man raised his eyebrows but jabbed back quickly.

"Confident in yourself huh? And what if that doesn't happen?" He tilted his head.

Ryu had the attentive look of a honor student when his eyes wondered for the answer for a second, eventually landing on his artwork.

Yamada sweated a lot in those couple minutes.

"You'll have a good laugh every time you look at it." He answered, calm but not cocky confident, like he found the textbook answer for the question.

The business man froze for a second, many around him by proxy too. He laughed, and waved for the bill.

---

After finishing as many tasks as he can, Yamada headed out of the teachers room. Almost bumping by Andre on his way out. His co worker had an exhausted look on his face, probably from connecting with nobles and securing portraits and submitting for fancy competitions.

He greeted casually before heading out, trying not to look at Andre for too long. The logs rolled in his head.

'A young prodigy once, many predicted greatness for him only for the market to move on to another young prodigy...Or that's how the story is hushed.'

'I mean I'm not any better anyway.'

In his relatively messy house Yamada scooped the fresh rice, pairing it with a quenchy infused curry.

He ate while mentally arranging his notes about the students who might need extra help with their projects.

He opened a bottle of coconut water like it's a delicacy, enjoying every sip.

It was his truthful companion before he came to the land fifteen years ago, when he was a struggling artist in his rough studio, genuinely believing he came make it.

The kicker that he almost did before adhesions formed on his liver, he followed his only chance of survival and packed to the land of the unwanted.

What followed was his discovery that the life of a struggling artist was easier here, substituting food with quenchy helped, but aside from traditional food he's used to everything else was reasonable financially.

He entered the art academy as a volunteer. Paying his bills by teaching some basics as the academy was new and understaffed that time.

'Thinking about it, teaching terrified my back then...Still does sometimes.'

'Remembering all the failed artist turned teachers who thought me. The embodiment of the saying "Who can't do teach."'

The water that washed his dishes washed some of those thoughts too. He naturally shifted to organize the tasks of the next day.

Before sleep he graded some exams, he almost made a victory fist when he realized a student answered a question they were struggling with correctly.