The plan was simple. Bat her lashes, lean over his desk, and "accidentally" leave her perfume on his blazer. But Davis was immune. He didn't leer. He didn't stutter. He just smiled sadly and said, "You know, Nicole, you're the smartest person in this building. It's a shame you're only working two muscles."
She turned down the trust fund. She tore up the contract.
Her latest mark was the new substitute, Mr. Davis—a doe-eyed, former tech entrepreneur who had burned out and decided to "give back." He wore thrift-store cardigans, but Nicole had done her research: he had a trust fund the size of a small island.
Panic set in. Her remedial class—dubbed "The Unfixables"—was a zoo: a hacker who corrected her grammar, a jock who read at a third-grade level, and a goth girl who only spoke in emoji. Nicole tried her usual tricks: bribing them with pizza, showing Mean Girls (educational, she argued), and even offering extra credit for bringing her coffee. Nothing worked.
Insulted, she doubled down. She organized a "school fundraiser" (a car wash where she wore a bikini top and collected $3,000). The principal, fed up, gave her an ultimatum: "Fix your remedial English class's test scores in one month, or you're fired. No rich husband will want a teacher with a termination on her record."
And Nicole Aniston, former gold-digger and spectacular failure, finally became the one thing she never expected to be: a good teacher.
A cynical, gold-digging teacher famous for slacking off and shaking her moneymaker on weekends is forced to actually teach a remedial class—only to discover that fixing failing students might just fix her own broken life.
"No," she said, smiling. "I'm not staying for the money. I'm staying because Marcus owes me a coffee. And Tyrone promised to read me his new poem. And I have a reputation as a bad teacher to fix."