Chapter 14 - Ms. Collins Appeals
Melissa Collins’s appeal hearing began in April.
Jacob did not attend.
That was his choice.
Nina went with Grace.
When she returned, Jacob was doing algebra.
“How bad?”
“Long.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Nina sat opposite him.
“Her attorney argued the district punished her because the video went viral.”
Jacob stopped writing.
“And?”
“The district argued the investigation proved misconduct independent of public pressure.”
“What did she say?”
“She testified.”
He waited.
“She said she had become too focused on outcomes.”
“Meaning Summit?”
“Placement rates. Writing scores. Tutoring. Reputation. All of it.”
Jacob frowned.
“Did she admit changing grades?”
“She admitted ‘adjusting’ some scores based on what she believed students could produce independently.”
“That still makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“If I write an eighty-eight essay, I get an eighty-eight.”
“That is generally how grading should work.”
“Not seventy-three because she thinks I’m secretly worse.”
“Yes.”
He tapped his pencil.
“Did she talk about me?”
“Yes.”
Jacob’s hand stopped.
“What did she say?”
Nina hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“She said throwing your essay away was indefensible.”
He looked up.
“That’s new.”
“Yes.”
“Did she apologize?”
“She said she had already attempted to.”
Jacob laughed.
“That meeting wasn’t an apology.”
“I agree.”
“What else?”
Nina looked tired.
“She said the public video turned her worst moment into the only thing people believed about her.”
Jacob stared at his worksheet.
For some reason that hurt.
Not because he felt sorry for her exactly.
Because he understood.
The internet had turned his worst moment into something strangers thought they knew too.
He had hated that.
“Is she right?”
Nina took her time.
“She is more than that video.”
Jacob looked surprised.
“But?”
“But being more than your worst act doesn’t erase responsibility for it.”
He nodded.
That felt right.
A week later the appeal officer upheld the termination.
The written decision was seventy-two pages.
Grace summarized it.
The ruling did not rely on whether Ms. Collins was “a bad person.”
It relied on conduct.
Pre-grading work.
Changing scores without documented academic basis.
Failing to disclose financial relationships.
Directing families toward a business that paid her.
Creating misleading consulting records.
Humiliating students.
The appeal officer wrote:
An educator’s authority depends on trust that academic judgments are made for educational reasons rather than personal financial benefit. That trust was materially breached.
Jacob read the sentence twice.
“Materially breached sounds like a building broke.”
Grace smiled.
“Legal writing loves buildings.”
“What happens now?”
“The state licensing review continues.”
“Could she teach somewhere else?”
“Not while the license matter is pending.”
“Could she win that?”
“Yes.”
Jacob frowned.
Grace continued.
“Nothing is automatic.”
He had learned that.
Justice was not a door opening to reveal the right answer.
It was people repeatedly choosing to document, review and decide.
Sometimes correctly.
Sometimes too late.
The same month, Lauren Collins announced Summit would close permanently.
She cited reputational damage and refunds.
Ava’s family received their money back.
Victor donated half to Brookfield’s literary magazine.
Ava complained.
“You could’ve bought me a laptop.”
“You have a laptop.”
“A better laptop.”
“You have no respect for compound interest.”
“You have no respect for joy.”
Jacob laughed until his stomach hurt.
Then Ava told him Mia had been accepted as a junior editor for her high-school newspaper.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“What did Collins say when she heard?”
“Mia doesn’t know and doesn’t care.”
That might have been the best ending of all.
Not defeating Ms. Collins.
Becoming indifferent to her opinion.
Jacob wondered whether he would ever get there.
He was not yet.
May you like
But he was closer.
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