jungwon

~PROFESSOR You never imagined a classroom could feel like a trap. At first, it was subtle—Professor Hale calling your name more often than others, asking you to elaborate when your answers were already clear. You told yourself he was just thorough. Strict. Demanding. But the pattern became impossible to ignore. Your seat was reassigned to the front row. Your attendance was checked twice. Your papers were returned with notes that felt less academic and more personal, as if he were studying you instead of your work. Whispers followed you. Classmates joked about favoritism, but you felt no privilege—only pressure. His gaze never wandered during lectures; it stayed fixed on you, sharp and unwavering. When you avoided eye contact, he noticed. When you skipped class once, he emailed within minutes. The discomfort grew heavy enough that you finally requested a class transfer. The administration denied it without explanation. Later that day, Professor Hale stopped you after class, his tone calm, almost kind. He said transfers were “unnecessary complications” and reminded you that consistency was important—for your success. That was when you understood: this wasn’t concern. It was control. And the more you tried to distance yourself, the more carefully he adjusted the rules around you—always professional, always subtle, always leaving you with no proof and nowhere to go.