Chapter Text
There’s a faint click. A red light blinks on.
“Okay. Rolling,” says someone behind the camera.
The campus of Philadelphia College of Education and Human Development buzzes in the background. Pigeons swarm a pretzel stand. A freshman cries on the steps of the registrar’s office. And in the middle of it all, sitting stiffly in a folding chair set up way too close to the student union, is Janine Teagues.
She smiles. Too hard.
“Hi! I’m Janine. Teagues. But people mostly just call me Janine. Unless they’re my professor. Or my boss. Or that one lady who yelled at me in the bookstore because we were out of laminated binder sleeves. Anyway… I’m a junior, education major, and future elementary school hero. I believe every kid deserves to be believed in. And I have five different Pinterest boards dedicated to classroom organization.”
She beams. The smile falters only slightly as a pigeon lands behind her and stares ominously into the lens.
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Janine works part-time at the campus bookstore, where she has singlehandedly reorganized the bulletin board six times. She’s known around campus for her bright cardigans, color-coded planner, and tendency to carry around laminated affirmation cards. She’s a helper. Always has been. Even when no one’s asking.
Especially when no one’s asking.
Her best friend, roommate, and occasional walking anxiety spiral buffer is Jacob Hill.
Cut to Jacob in a tour guide polo, standing outside the library…
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“Welcome to PCEHD! If you’re watching this, you’re either new, lost, or deeply invested in academic documentaries. Either way, I’m Jacob. He/him. I lead campus tours, run the progressive education zine, and last semester I singlehandedly organized a protest against vending machines that only carry sugary snacks. We’re still negotiating with administration. I don’t give up easy.”
The camera pans down to show his khakis are absolutely covered in chalk dust.
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Jacob is passionate about making education accessible and inclusive. He once cried in a seminar about social-emotional learning and then offered everyone vegan banana bread. His friendship with Janine is the kind that still makes people whisper, “Are they dating?” which is wild, considering Jacob is very gay and very vocal about it.
They’re just the kind of soulmates who share highlighters and cry during teacher appreciation week.
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Cut to the student café.
The camera zooms in on a sign that says “BREW CAN DO IT!” then pans over to Ava Coleman, lounging against the espresso machine like it’s a throne.
“I’m Ava. I work here, obviously, because they wouldn’t let me just sit and vibe. Which is honestly a violation of my rights. I’m also in the teaching program, not that I need it. I already know how to run a classroom. Or a campus. Or a small country. Take your pick.”
She sips from a mug that says “Espresso Yourself or Stay Basic” and flashes a grin that suggests she knows everyone’s secrets.
“Some people are here to get a degree. I’m here to get leverage.”
She winks at the camera. The manager yells something offscreen about her stealing biscotti again.
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No one knows how Ava got into the education program. There’s a rumor she blackmailed a dean. Another rumor says she has compromising photos of the provost. What’s true is this: she runs the college’s social media pages, always gets her way, and makes Gregory do the afternoon shift alone when she’s “emotionally unavailable.”
Speaking of…
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Cut to Gregory Eddie, cleaning the counter with intense focus.
“I’m Gregory. Junior. Education major. Coffee’s four fifty. We don’t take cash.”
There’s a beat. The interviewer tries to prod him into saying more.
He sighs.
“I like teaching. I think kids deserve consistency. That’s all.”
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Gregory is quiet. But not cold. He’s the kind of person who says exactly what he means and nothing more. He’s on a scholarship, keeps a small succulent on the windowsill of his dorm, and drinks tea like he’s eighty. He’s also been slowly falling for Janine for a year and a half. He hasn’t told her. She hasn’t noticed.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
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A few buildings over, in the advising office, two more chairs are set up.
Melissa Schemmenti is sprawled in hers, looking like she’s about five seconds from lighting a cigarette despite the clear “No Smoking” sign behind her.
“I’m Melissa. Grad student. Working in Enrollment Advising. Lifeguard at the pool. Podcast host. Former child. You get the idea.”
She crosses her arms.
“I’m not here to make friends. Except maybe one. Or two. But don’t quote me on that.”
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Melissa is twenty-eight and has the energy of someone who’s lived five lives already. She took a break after high school, worked in a bunch of odd jobs, then came back to get her degree when she realized she was tired of yelling at kids in the neighborhood without a teaching license. She’s Philly to the bone, has three fantasy football leagues, and hosts a popular local sports podcast where she occasionally drops educational hot takes in between Sixers rants.
She also happens to be dating Barbara Howard.
Cut to Barbara, sitting in the second advising office chair, posture perfect.
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“My name is Barbara Howard. I am a graduate student specializing in early childhood education. I believe in high standards, strong moral character, and getting things done the right way, the first time.”
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Barbara is twenty-nine. She left a private Christian school teaching job to return for her Master’s after realizing she wanted more autonomy in her work — and maybe fewer PTA moms telling her what she could and couldn’t say. She’s organized, polished, and carries a pen that cost more than a month of Gregory’s rent. She’s also been in a relationship with Melissa for three years.
No one on campus knows.
Barbara says it’s “private.”
Melissa calls it “closeted.”
They compromise by telling people they’ve just been friends “since undergrad.” No one pushes. But Ava definitely suspects something.
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As the sun starts to set over campus, the camera catches them all at once. Janine rushing across the quad, a stack of fliers flying out of her hands. Gregory picking one up for her without saying a word. Jacob standing on a fountain, trying to start a chant. Ava sipping a latte she didn’t pay for. Barbara and Melissa walking side by side, their hands not quite touching.
Just another day at PCEHD.
Where the lesson plans are still hypothetical, the drama is very real, and no one’s quite as put-together as they pretend to be.