My Teacher Called Me A Failure Until The Janitor Said Something That Made Her Blush.

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Friday evening, Tiana texted asking if I wanted to meet at the library to discuss the compliance requirements Foster had given me. She said she had invited a few other students who used my app regularly so we could get their input on the parental consent system I needed to build.

I showed up around 6:00 and found Tiana at a study table with three other students I recognized from the school. She introduced them and explained they were all active users who had agreed to give me honest feedback.

I pulled up my laptop and showed them the mockup I had started designing for a parental consent flow. Parents would get an email explaining what data the app collected and asking them to approve their student’s account.

The students immediately pointed out problems with my design. One girl said her parents barely checked email and would probably never see the consent request.

Another student said his parents did not speak English well and would be confused by the technical language in my draft policy. A third student said the whole process seemed annoying and would probably make some kids just not use the app rather than deal with getting their parents involved.

I asked how they would make it better, and they started brainstorming ideas. They suggested making the consent process work on phones since parents were more likely to see and respond to a text message than an email.

They suggested writing the privacy policy in simple language that anyone could understand, not legal terms, and maybe offering an in-person consent option at the school for parents who wanted to ask questions.

They gave me brutally honest feedback about how the requirements would affect real users, but also acknowledged the privacy protection made sense. One student pointed out that her parents would actually feel better about her using the app if they knew it had been reviewed for safety.

By the end of the hour, I had pages of notes about how to make compliance less painful for users. Tiana walked out with me afterward and said she was impressed I was taking the feedback seriously instead of just building what was easiest for me.

Administrative Retaliation

The following Monday, during passing period between second and third period, Mrs. Duran stopped me in the hallway outside her classroom.

She said I needed to report to the AP Biology lab after school to clean up after their dissection lab as additional punishment for attitude problems. I started to ask what attitude problems she meant, but she cut me off, saying she did not have time to argue about it.

Several students in the hallway had stopped to listen, and I felt my face getting hot with embarrassment. Before I could respond, Mr. Castillo appeared from around the corner, pushing his cleaning cart.

He had clearly overheard the conversation. He stopped next to us and spoke politely but firmly.

He pointed out that assigning cross-departmental punitive labor was not covered under school policy and could be considered retaliation given my ongoing grade remediation process.

Mrs. Duran’s expression shifted from smug to uncertain. She said she was just trying to teach me about responsibility and following instructions.

Mr. Castillo said that was fine, but it needed to happen within her own classroom and subject area, not by assigning me to clean up after other teachers’ labs. He suggested if she had concerns about my attitude, she should document them properly and discuss them with administration rather than creating unofficial punishments.

Mrs. Duran looked between us for a moment, then said she would think about it and walked back into her classroom. But before she left, she shot me a look that made it clear she was not done finding ways to make my life difficult.

The hallway had gone quiet with students watching the whole exchange. Mr. Castillo gave me a small nod and continued pushing his cart down the hall like nothing had happened.

I stood there for a moment, feeling grateful but also worried about what Mrs. Duran would try next.

Publicity and Peer Review

Tuesday afternoon, I got an email from someone named Rachel Chen, who ran a local education blog. She said she heard through the grapevine about a high school student running a successful tutoring platform and wanted to interview me about student entrepreneurship.

I stared at the email for a few minutes, trying to figure out who had been talking about me. The attention felt good in a way, but also made my stomach tight with worry.

I had no idea if publicity would help my situation or make everything worse with Mrs. Duran and the school. I forwarded the email to Vikram with a quick message asking what he thought.

His response came back within an hour, saying I should hold off on any press until after the compliance issues were completely resolved and my academic situation was stable. He said media attention could complicate things with the district and with Mrs. Duran if she felt like I was trying to embarrass her publicly.

I wrote back to Rachel, saying I appreciated the interest but needed to focus on school right now.

Wednesday morning, Joyce Hendricks stopped me in the hallway before first period. She told me she had arranged for another AP Chemistry teacher to observe Mrs. Duran’s class as part of a routine peer-review process.

Her face stayed completely neutral when she said it, but the timing was obvious. I felt this weird mix of feelings: part of me was glad someone was finally checking on how Mrs. Duran taught and graded, but another part felt guilty because I never meant to get her in trouble with administration.

I just wanted fair treatment for myself. The situation kept getting bigger and more complicated than I intended.

I thanked Joyce and headed to class, trying not to think about how Mrs. Duran would react when she found out about the observation.

The Cost of Doing the Right Thing

Over the weekend, I finally finished implementing the new parental consent flow on my app. I pushed the update live Saturday morning and then sat at my desk watching the analytics dashboard.

My conversion rate started dropping almost immediately. Users who would have signed up before were now hitting the parental consent requirement and bouncing.

By Sunday evening, the numbers showed a 30% drop in new signups. I did the math in my head and realized I was losing roughly $12,000 in monthly recurring revenue by doing the right thing.

Watching those revenue numbers decline in real time felt physically painful. My chest got tight, and I kept refreshing the dashboard, hoping the trend would reverse.

But Foster’s deadline was firm, and the alternative was losing school network access entirely, which would kill way more than 30% of my business. I closed my laptop and tried to focus on the long-term play instead of panicking about short-term losses.

Monday morning, I opened my email and found a message from a company called Edute Solutions offering $1.2 million to acquire my app outright. The number was way higher than the previous offers I had gotten.

For a few minutes, I just stared at it, thinking about how that much money would solve every problem I currently had. No more compliance stress, no more server costs, no more late nights fixing bugs.

I could focus entirely on school and college applications. But I forwarded it to Vikram before responding because I had learned not to make big decisions without advice.

He called me that evening while I was doing homework.

“I definitely should not sell right now. The offer was too low given your revenue trajectory and growth rate.”

He said if I could solve the compliance issues, I would have much better options in six months. He also mentioned the possibility of raising a small angel round instead, which would give me capital to hire help without giving up control of the company.

The call made me feel better about not taking the easy money.