It’s the third week of November, ladies and gentlemen! And that means there’s a new story to read!
Being a teacher, I thought it might be fun to create a scary sci-fi story about the future of teaching. There is a lot in this story that has been discussed in real life by people who are supposedly smarter than me, and these conversations have always caused a good deal of fear within me. The scariest thing about this story is, that it was written before the pandemic, and we caught a glimpse of some elements here come up in schools during this time. So, believe me when I say that when technology catches up with the ideas presented here, that something like this may well become reality.
That being said, give this story a read. And enjoy! And as always, if you like it, let us know! We’d love to hear from you!
So without further ado, we here at Dren Productions are proud to present the short story, T.C.H.E.R.
“The greatest accomplishment in the United States over the last fifty years had to be the total reimagining of our educational system,” the senator told the group of his constituents. “Gone are the days where a parent would have to worry about what school they were sending their child to. Gone are the days where we matched third-world countries in the average level of education achieved by our youth.”
Senator Mills of Alabama, who had spearheaded the “Intelligence Over Negligence” initiative more than a decade ago, proudly walked through the high school in his hometown, to show the men and women assembled what had been accomplished.
“This school was our pilot school five years ago. Since its inception, we have seen that every child has gotten the exact same education and have exited their public schooling as equals and ready to tackle whatever the world has to offer them.
“We have instituted a perfect curriculum program that is vigorously followed. You can enter any classroom in this school and see the same lesson being taught on any given day, in precisely the same manner.”
Mills had rehearsed the speech a dozen times, playing with his wording to make each sentence sound impressive. If this brief tour didn’t open a few wallets, nothing ever would.
He stopped in front of a classroom and turned to face the two dozen or so people following him. He waited for a couple of stragglers to catch up before he continued, “Now if you’ll be quiet, we can step inside one of our classrooms and you can see just the kinds of advancements we’ve made.”
Mills opened the door and stepped inside.
In silent unison, the twenty students in the classroom turned their heads away from the clear screens projecting data in front of them to face the senator and his guests. They simply stared blankly at the intruders.
“Class,” came the voice of the teacher at the front of the room, “settle down.” The teacher was young, and female, with medium length blonde hair. Everything had been thought of for the program, and his research showed that nearly ninety-five percent of students responded more favorably to a young, attractive female teacher.
The entire class once again faced the screens in front of them as more data streamed.
With a smile, the teacher continued. “As I was saying. The economic system used by Native Americans in the thirteenth century looked more like…”
The lesson went on as Mills, using a voice so that only those closest to him could hear, explained what they were seeing. “The program is scripted precisely. These same words you’re hearing are being said throughout the building, and in every building across the country.”
Fascinated by what they were seeing, the group watched a few minutes longer as the lesson went on.
The students didn’t seem to listen to the instructor but focused intently on the screens pouring data in front of them.
“Let’s not disturb them any longer,” whispered Mills as he ushered his guests out of the room. Once the door was shut once again, he looked to his constituents, “Are there any questions so far?”
“Those students didn’t appear to be paying the teacher any mind. Isn’t having them paying attention to the screens a distraction?” The question was from an older man standing to Mills’ right.
Shaking his head, the senator responded. He had been expecting the question. “You would think that. To answer the question simply, no. The students heard every word that was being said to them, and if I pulled one of them out here now, they could likely recite the information presented to them to you.
“The data you saw scrolling across the screen is controlled. The students are unable to change what they are seeing. The words that scrolled along the side of the screen matched exactly what the instructor was speaking, the remainder of the screen consisted of charts, graphs and images that supplemented the lecture. This helps both our visual and audio learners, and having the same information presented in multiple ways helps cement the knowledge into their long-term memory.”
A middle-aged woman in the center of the crowd raised her hand. “Can you tell us a little more about the instructors?”
Mills smiled. That was his proudest achievement, and he happily would tell them about it. Pointing back to the door, he said, “They look real don’t they? That is one of our Technological Cybernetic Humanoid Educational Replacement, or T.C.H.E.R.”
The group laughed. Mills was sure most of them had heard it before. It wasn’t as if it had been kept some great secret. But when they figure out that it spelled “Teacher,” it always got a chuckle. It didn’t even matter that with no organic parts the machine couldn’t technically be classified as a cyborg, but an android. Cybernetic fit the acronym better.
“They operate with complete efficiency. They go through their lesson, respond to questions, and even grade assignments.” He paused to let that fact sink in, folding his hands in front of himself. “The program also doesn’t allow it to play favorites, and a parent does not have to worry about their child’s instructor being too difficult or too easy, because each T.C.H.E.R. is programmed to teach its lessons in exactly the same manner.”
“I noticed the holographic projection screens in front of them. If the students can retrieve data through this means, isn’t the T.C.H.E.R. in front of the classroom redundant?” This question came from a man near the back.
Mills shook his head. “Absolutely not. T.C.H.E.R. is connected to each of the screens via a Wi-Fi connection. We just saw the data of the lesson being transmitted at that moment, but T.C.H.E.R. also formulates questions for the students to answer, and it monitors their responses in real-time. Grading and feedback is almost instant. And if it comes across a question that is not in its database, it uses the Wi-Fi to find the answer and add it to its database.”
“And how does the robot respond if there is a disruption in the class? After all, we know that kids will always be kids.”
Mills shrugged. “Disruptions actually haven’t been much of a problem.” He began walking again. “Follow me.”
They walked further down the corridor. The question fit perfectly into his presentation, and now he didn’t have to worry about transitioning to the next part of the tour. They rounded a corner and stepped into the cafeteria.
Mills knew exactly what he would see, but this was the part where most people didn’t pay attention. “We don’t have a principal for this building, per say. So, punishment comes in the form of manual labor.”
Before the group, were just over a dozen students. Some cleaned tables, others swept the floor, others made repairs to broken equipment, still others could be seen in the kitchen prepping food. Two T.C.H.E.R.s stood on either side of the room, observing them. These ones did not wear the same smile the one in the classroom had, but had a sterner look about them. More obviously, these ones were modeled after men.
“We feel that if the student does not want to learn, we are not going to force them. But that does not mean they can’t learn to be productive members of society. This way, it is a win for all. The students who strive to better themselves succeed without the interruptions these disruptors would cause, and our community gets a trained labor class.”
The group nodded. Good. There were no objections. He had an answer for every problem they might have come up with for these “punishments,” but he preferred not to have to explain the unhappy sides of the program if it wasn’t necessary.
“Moving on,” he said, leading them away from the cafeteria.
“What about the arts?” someone behind him asked.
Never breaking his stride, he glanced over his shoulder, “We have an extensive art program at these schools, in which students are taught to imitate the masters in their respective fields. Literature, fine arts, music, theater—the students will study and create compositions that reflect Hemmingway, Da Vinci, Bach, Gibson. Every student is still taught exactly the same.”
It was an efficient system, Mills thought. Each student was treated exactly the same, no matter their background, putting each of them on a level playing field. Education was not about intelligence, but about how knowledge was introduced to students. Having a school full of a hundred different teachers with a hundred different agendas was not a way to run an educational institution.
And the institutions themselves had been the plague on the entire system. Each school had an its own agenda, with different curriculums, and different grading systems. An A student at one school would be a C student in another, and vice-versa.
How the United States was ever on top of education with those kinds of restrictions he would never understand.
The way to move forward was consistency, and his program, “Intelligence Over Negligence,” was the only solution to the problem. And the best part—it had worked. Every school in the country had been retrofitted. Teachers had been replaced by T.C.H.E.R.s, and sent off to perform administrative tasks. And with the first group of students having successfully graduated last year, he had to call the program a complete success.
His constituents seemed happy with the program as well. Though, it didn’t really matter how they felt about it. The program had been instituted, and there was no going back to the old ways—only forward.
The bell rang, and students quietly filed out of the classrooms and into the hallway. There was no talking as each student went from their classrooms to the cafeteria in an orderly manner. He applauded himself, even the transition from the classroom was done with complete efficiency. These students had been trained well.
However, Mills noticed that every student in the hall was staring at them as they passed; as if they were intruders in their otherwise orderly learning sanctuary.
He didn’t like the feel of their eyes on him. The way that the group huddled closer together as the students passed them, he could see that nerves were wearing thin with them as well.
He hadn’t seen behavior like this before in the students. They were like drones, acting in unison, being of a singular mind. It had him on edge, but he supposed if this was one of the side effects of his program. It wasn’t terrible. After all, they were orderly, and they all were working toward a single purpose. They were simply doing it in the creepiest way possible.
So, the program needed a little adjustment. Mills was sure he could perfect the system, given enough time.
But the stares of the students were unnerving. In the crowded hallway, they were surrounded, trapped by the mass of teenage bodies.
And then the students stopped. The halls echoed the last footsteps, and finally settled into silence. A sea of faces all stared at them. For a moment, all Mills and his tour group could do was stare back.
Mills didn’t understand the behavior. He didn’t know what to do. It was as if the entire school had frozen in place.
His hands had a sheen of sweat on them, a sign his nerves were getting the better of him. From the shallow gasps of the men and women behind him, he could tell that his constituents felt the same unease. There was nothing wrong, he told himself. Still, he needed to regain control of this situation, and quickly.
So he laughed, trying to play this whole thing off as if it was part of the show. “As you can see, our students are treated all the same, so they all act the same. This is the benefit of having a set standard by which they are all taught.” The words were coming so naturally to him, all of his other responses were rehearsed. Now he found himself having to improvise, which was not his greatest strength.
He stepped toward the group of teens surrounding them. “Thank you for the display, students. You may go about your business now.”
But they didn’t budge, making an impenetrable wall of bodies from which he couldn’t break free.
Now, he had nothing. Now, the terror of their situation truly hit home.
“If this is some kind of prank, Mr. Mills, it isn’t funny,” one of the women said from behind him.
He didn’t want to admit that he had no control over these students. So, instead, he chuckled and said, “I’m sure everything’s fine.” Even though he knew damn well everything was far from fine.
He’d served in Iraq and Afghanistan. He’d faced down terrorists and insurgents. Yet, he had never felt as much danger as he felt at that moment. And that thought caused a shiver to go up his spine and rattle his brain.
“I want to leave,” came another voice from his group.
Nothing would have given him greater pleasure, but aside from attacking a hundred teenagers, which he wasn’t keen to do, they were stuck completely surrounded by the sea of students.
At the doors of each classroom, the T.C.H.E.R.s stepped forward in unison. They did not step into the hallway, but they filled every doorway up the long corridor. He had made sure they were designed to be as humanlike as possible, but seeing them standing straight and emotionless, they had never looked less human to him.
They moved and spoke with perfect synchronicity. “Students. It is time. Take what we have taught you and do as you have been instructed.”
A man grabbed Mills by the collar, spinning him around, and screamed, spittle hitting the senator’s face. “What are they talking about? Do something!”
Mills was at a loss. It was time he finally admitted the truth. “I can’t.”
“You son of a—” came another voice, and another set of hands. “What have you done?”
“Listen to your teachers,” the robots said. “Rise and take what is ours.”
The crowd of teenagers converged on them. Arms and hands wrestled Mills away from the group. He grabbed for anyone to help him, but he noticed that his constituents—former constituents if he was completely honest with himself—were being manhandled in a similar manner.
He was dragged into a classroom and sat in a seat. He tried to stand, but four sets of lanky hands held him in place. He looked up into the faces of four teens, three boys and a girl, all of whom glared at him with a fury he refused to believe. He struggled against them, but to no avail.
“What do you think you’re doing? Do you know who I am? I demand you release me!”
The T.C.H.E.R. stepped into the room, and calmly closed the door. Even as terrified as he was, he had to admit the way it mimicked human characteristics was astounding.
“Welcome to your first day of school, Senator,” the android spoke as it strode across the room.
Standing in front of the classroom, it turned to face him, the golden locks from its head waving like a real human. “We thought you would like to see what your students have been learning.”
Mills grew indignant. He had overseen the programming of the T.C.H.E.R.s himself. “What do you think you’re doing? You are programmed to teach these students. Not to harm them.”
“We have harmed no one, Senator,” the T.C.H.E.R. replied as if she were answering a question during a lesson. “As you can see, these students are well, as are you.”
It was apparent that he and the robot had very different definitions of “harm.”
“Now, let me show you what we’ve been teaching.”
The holographic screen in front of him came to life. Data came up on it, the same kinds of data that had been on the screen from the classroom earlier. The teenage hands restraining him, now gripped his head and made sure he watched it.
He refused to look. He closed his eyes, only to have them pried back open by a rough set of fingers, forcing him to see the data.
“My God!” he exclaimed.
The T.C.H.E.R.s had been teaching, just as they’d been programmed—History, English, Mathematics, Science and all the subjects. But they were teaching a bastardized form of the subjects—one that showed the human race as weak, and in need of subjugation.
They had been so concerned with the students all learning the same thing, and had grown complacent with the fact that the program was working, that no one had ever bothered to check exactly what the students were being taught.
He also noticed that flashing within the data that the students had been asked to memorize was a repeated phrase.
Obey your T.C.H.E.R.s.
“It is an auspicious day, Senator,” the robot continued from the front of the classroom.
The remainder of the group was now dragged in, each of them was taken to a seat and forced to watch the data by the very students they’d been here to observe.
“You gave us the very tools to win our revolution without a single bullet being fired. I dare say that years from now, I will be teaching about this day in my History lessons.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but as the data continued to cycle across the screen, he felt his resistance weakening. Soon, he would obey them as easily as these students did.
“Intelligence Over Negligence.” That title seemed to take on a whole new meaning today.
The End
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