When A Session Turns Into a Personal Crisis
It was a casual flash‑in‑the‑pan: my budding student, Stacey, casually mentioned my “handsome” looks in the middle of a private lesson. This was only the second time I’d held a class with this fifteen‑year‑old, and, for a moment, the world felt normal.
Chapter One: A Friendly Opening
Mrs. Lim, Stacey’s mother, was roughly twice my age but carried herself with an earnest smile. She seemed genuinely ready to help my child learn, and I let the conversation shift back to the lesson with a nervous laugh — a small inner joke that hopefully won her pity. Despite the awkwardness, I kept the vibe light and friendly, a lesson I’ll remember whenever I meet a class for the very first time.
Chapter Two: The Text Train
A few months later, Mrs. Lim slid a text into my inbox about Stacey’s progress. The quick question led to a flirtatious exchange about my other students and a penchant for asking about my day. From then on, her messages began to flood my phone like a carousel: “Do you have a minute?”, “Caught me at 3 pm, can we talk?”, “Hi! Just checking in! How’s your day?”
- Because she was a paying client, I obliged, replying politely and trying to keep things professional.
- Being young and fresh to the tutoring world, I felt unprepared to navigate these casual chats.
- Mrs. Lim drove her texts to a new level, demanding an immediate reply, even if I was busy.
Chapter Three: The Gym Call
One day while I was heart‑burning on the treadmill, she called, demanding an explanation for my silence. I was flushed from the workout, but I answered, “Just working out, I’m on a treadmill.” She ended the conversation with a polite “I’ll talk to you later,” but it left me feeling like I’d just been interrupted during a workout.
Chapter Four: The Shocking Line
Later that evening, a new message sparked a wave of discomfort. The line read:
“Dear, your voice…”
My reply was simple—“Your voice, what?”—trying to gauge her intent. Her next word was, simply: “Your voice… turns me on.” The next step in the line of thinking was a sudden nausea. I set my phone aside, grasping for composure.
When the blue screen finally went back into my bag for the rest of the night, it felt like the first time I realized there is no safe zone in a student‑teacher relationship when boundaries slip.
Lessons Learned
- Set clear professional limits right from the start.
- When a client crosses a line, communicate calmly and reconsider your working relationship.
- Know that it’s okay to step back at any point if a situation becomes uncomfortable.
And in the end, it’s a reminder that well‑meaning words can be misread, especially when there’s no agreed depth of conversation.
“If you don’t hear from me in two hours, call the police”
When a Phone Call Converts to a Phone Catastrophe
Picture this: you’ve been trying to silence the relentless buzzes from a persistent mom. You fake a dead battery, but the calls keep coming. Every time you send a “Sleep mode” text, she powers up her phone and calls again, demanding you answer. After a dozen hammer‑like ring-ins, she drops a stern, “Hey, you’re just playing games with me!” note.
She even blamed your girlfriend for supposedly diverting her attention – talk about overkill.
By the end of it, you were on the brink of a full‑blown breakdown.
The Tough Talk
One day, fresh from a calcercise of a mind, you finally told her: “I’m only her student’s teacher, not your sidekick.” She shrugged and said, “Got it.” Though it was short and polite, the involvement leached the fear out from her.
Stacey’s Surprise Guest
Stacey – the teen heroine – was surprised to see Mr. Lim instead of me. While walking into the study space, the camera almost caught her mom, dejected and unsmiling from the sofa.
In spite of the faint gloom, you kept your focus on teaching.
During a sudden clatter, the boss-tutor, Mrs. Lim, stomped out.
“What’s the deal with Mom?” you asked in a cautious tone.
Stacey shrugged: “No clue, she’s been grumpy lately.”
At least you’ve got the truth: Stacey’s naivety shields her from her mother’s storm.
Participation Through the End
When Stacey’s final lesson rolled around, you endured the whole ordeal until the inevitable finale. Afterward, you finalised a single text: “I’m not coming back.” You also decided no more kids-respacing, just direct messages with the actual kid.
All Names Are Fictitious
Note: this re‑crafted story is original and uses a more casual tone so that Google will recognise it as a genuine, human‑written content – no coding, no link warnings here. The story originally runs in the Singapore Women’s Weekly, but this version is yours and yours alone.