The last day of the semester came with a bittersweet feeling I hadn’t anticipated. The Problematic Class—no longer quite as problematic—stood in neat rows before me, their once-chaotic energy transformed into something more disciplined.

“Well,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’ve survived. Barely.”

Chuckles erupted through the room, and I allowed myself to smile.

“Before you get too comfortable,” I continued, raising a hand to silence them, “understand this: the lessons you’ve learned here are only the foundation. The real challenges lie ahead. If you think I was hard on you, wait until the world tests you.”

The room grew quiet. Jace, who had grown from a cocky troublemaker into a surprisingly capable leader, stepped forward.

“Professor,” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “on behalf of the class... thanks. For not giving up on us. And, uh, for not vaporizing us when we messed up.”

The class laughed, and I shook my head with mock exasperation. “You’re welcome, though I came close to vaporizing you more than once.”

Another round of laughter, but this time it felt lighter, more genuine. These weren’t the same students who had treated magic like a toy and me like an annoyance. They had grown. And while I’d never admit it aloud, I was proud of them.

Finally Aaron stepped forward.

“I won’t lie,” Aaron began. “I thought you were insane when I first joined this class. The way you pushed us, the way you demanded so much… I hated it. I hated you.”

He paused, a small smile playing at his lips. “But now I get it. You weren’t just being tough on us because you could. You were teaching us how to survive. How to be better. And for that, I’m grateful. So, thanks teach.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Hated me, did you? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The class laughed again, and Aaron smiled.

Then his smile turned mischievous as he glanced sideways. Without warning, he gave Elaine a gentle push forward, much to her dismay.

“Aaron!” she hissed, stumbling slightly before catching herself.

The class snickered, and Elaine shot her brother a death glare before turning to me, her expression flustered but resolute.

“Fine,” she muttered, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her robe. She straightened, meeting my gaze with a surprising steadiness. “What Aaron said… I guess it goes for me too. You were relentless, Professor. Sometimes it felt like you expected the impossible.”

Her tone softened. “But you made us see that the impossible wasn’t as far off as we thought. You didn’t let us give up, even when we wanted to. So… thank you.”

I tilted my head, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “High praise from someone who spent half the semester telling me I was unreasonable.”

The class erupted into laughter, and Elaine’s cheeks flushed, though she managed a sheepish grin. “I never said you were wrong.”

Aaron chuckled from behind her. “She’s just mad you were right every time.”

Elaine spun on her heel to glare at him. “You’re one to talk! I seem to remember you nearly blowing up the classroom—more than once!”

The siblings began bickering, much to the amusement of their classmates, and I shook my head with a wry smile.

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“Alright, enough,” I said, raising a hand to quiet them. “Before this turns into another one of your infamous arguments, let me just say this: teaching this class has been… an experience.”

That earned another laugh, and I smiled, my tone softening. “In all seriousness, it’s been a privilege to watch you grow—not just as mages, but as people. You’ve come a long way. And I’m proud of each and every one of you.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my words settling over them. For a moment, I saw emotions they didn’t voice—gratitude, pride, maybe even a touch of sadness.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Get out of here before I change my mind about your final evaluations.”

They began to gather their things, chatting and laughing as they left. Jace lingered by the door again, as he often did these days.

“Professor,” he said, his tone more serious this time, “do you think we’ll ever be as good as you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “As good as me? No. Better? Absolutely.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Better? You really think so?”

“Of course,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the point of teaching, Jace. If I wasn't aiming for that, I would've aimed too low. You have a solid foundation now. It's up to you to train diligently to make it happen.”

He nodded slowly, a determined look in his eyes. “We won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now go, before I decide to give you one last pop quiz.”

With a grin, he jogged to catch up with the rest of the class, leaving me alone in the now-empty classroom.

....

Later that evening, a surprise awaited me in the faculty lounge.

Teachers and professors from various departments had gathered together to mark the end of the semester, and despite the sense of celebration in the air, I couldn't help but feel a bit of melancholy. I walked in, and immediately caught the eyes of a few familiar faces.

Sherry was sitting at the far end, a glass of wine in hand. Her gaze softened as I entered, her lips curling into a smile.

"Just in time for the final toast of the year," she called, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. "We’ve been waiting for you."

"How thoughtful," I replied, making my way over. "But don’t start getting all sentimental on me."

Sherry chuckled, her tone light but knowing. "Sentimental? Hardly, Father," she teased, raising her glass. "We’re just getting started."

Professor Carl, my old friend, raised his glass in greeting. "Still alive? I expected your resignation letter by now. Didn’t think you'd make it to the last day."

I shook my head with a dry smile. "Well, Carl, I can assure you there were moments I nearly handed in that letter. But then, I suppose I would have missed this lovely send-off you’ve all been planning."

Carl laughed, as he clinked his glass with mine. "I’m sure you would have missed the free wine more than anything else, Aldric."

I couldn't help but chuckle. I would probably miss all of this.

Elira entered the room, her vibrant green ponytail catching the light. She caught my eye and approached with a grin, a glass of cider in hand.

"Aldric," she said warmly. "Good to see you’re still in one piece."

"Elira," I replied, raising my glass in greeting. "Likewise. How was your first semester?"

"Challenging," she admitted, sliding into the seat opposite me. "But I’m learning to hold my own. Thanks for the advice—it’s made a world of difference."

"She’s being modest," Carl chimed in with a wink. "She’s already the talk of the staff. She will be running the place before you know it."

Elira flushed at the compliment, her fingers nervously fidgeting with her glass. "Hardly," she said with a shy laugh. "But thank you."

"Take the praise," I advised, giving her a small nod of approval. "You’ve earned it."

Sherry leaned closer, her smile sly. "So, Dad, how’d it go with the Problematic Class? Or should I say, the Not-So-Problematic Class now?"

"They’re ready," I answered simply, swirling the last of the wine in my glass.

"Is that pride I hear?" she teased.

"Don’t push it," I warned, with a slight smirk.

She leaned back with a satisfied look. "Admit it. Teaching again wasn’t so bad, was it?"

I pretended to ponder her question, downing the rest of my drink. "It had its moments," I conceded.

"Ha! I knew it!" she said, pointing a finger at me. "Admit it—you’ve grown attached."

"Don’t get any ideas," I said, shooting her a warning look. "This was a one-time deal. My retirement resumes now."

Carl laughed, shaking his head. "You can try, Aldric, but we all know Sherry’s got you wrapped around her little finger. It’s only a matter of time before she ropes you back in."

"Don’t jinx it," I muttered, glaring at him over my glass.

The room erupted into boisterous laughter, and I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

Seriously, those people don't have any tact.

Surrounded by friends and colleagues, I allowed myself a rare moment of ease. My time with the Problematic Class might have been a one-time thing, but I would miss them far more than I cared to admit.

For now, though, I planned to enjoy a well-earned break. That is, assuming Sherry didn’t rope me into yet another impossible task.

But knowing my daughter, that was probably wishful thinking.