“Cheerilee!”

No answer.

“Cheerilee!”

No reply.

“Cheerilee!”

There was never a reply for Miss Cheerilee, a teacher who is beginning to understand the general definition of loneliness. It is a brutal way to live. All alone without the once daily troubles of her students clouding her mind. Now, the only things that remains is the dull thoughts she still encompasses, and the memories that remain within her.

Only in her memories, may she live as a teacher once again.

“Miss Cheerilee!” a loud, boisterous filly announces, her voice cracking on the last e’s. “I don’t understand it!”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a blank flank, you would know!” an even more irritating filly announces, her white tiara shifting on her head as she spoke.

Then, Cheerilee would respond with the usual disciplinary phrase…

“Now girls!” she yells, causing the two fillies to freeze in their seats.

As the years went by, she changed, becoming more angry with her students than she ever did before.

“Sweetie, if you’re still having problems, you can ask me after class. I’ll be more than happy to discuss the issues from last night’s homework assignment at that time.” Then, the fearless professor with the power of knowledge turns to the obnoxious filly and points her hoof at her. “And if you bad mouth any of those girls,” she starts, pointing her free hoof at the three cutie mark crusaders. “I will make sure your parents will hear about it.” She puts her free hoof down and glares at the bully. “You understand that, Diamond Tiara?” Cheerilee venomously states.

Diamond Tiara nods rapidly, sinking in her seat. “I’m sorry, Miss Cheerilee.”

Cheerilee’s venomous glare subsides, her countenance now calm and relaxed. “Good,” she states with a cheerful tone. “I hope we understand each other now, Diamond Tiara.”

The filly nods and opens up her notebook rapidly, still tense by the sudden mood swing of her teacher.

And that is how Miss Cheerilee reigned in her class for her final year.

At present day, Miss Cheerilee is without a job, sitting in her lone hovel of a home, the small living space crammed up with her old teaching supplies and her necessities.

Her mattress lay still, without a frame to hold it with.

Her rocking chair no longer rocks, the frame too fragile to even sit in.

Her carpet is no longer showing it’s happy glow, the colors of the carpet fading to grey due to the lack of cleaning and replacing the carpet.

Now, Miss Cheerilee lays on her couch, wondering where the time has gone.

In a split second, she was a profound teacher…

...and now, she is a loyal couch potato, a fake rendition of the perfect teacher, a disgrace of a role model.

How did this happen?

She always asks this question, but unfortunately, she can never figure it out. Her mind is always wrapping itself around the possibility that the agency just wanted fresh legs in to fill her position.

This, however; was completely false.

_______________________________________________

Miss Cheerilee wakes up from her slumber on her old, dusty couch. As she moves, the dust flies, causing her to cough and close her eyes. Another day of living without teaching.

I hate my life.

As she does her usual stretch, her forelegs reaching out towards the heavens, she looks over to the picture on her bedroom door. Every day, she wakes up to her last class she’s ever taught, the smiles on the fillies’ and colts’ faces bringing her a little bit of joy in her morning.

When she leaves, however, she will not see them again until the following morning.

While she gets through the rest of her morning routine, she always gets these spontaneous thoughts of despair…

I miss my old life.

Everyday, living the dream…

...lecturing my students on how one plus one does equal two…

...the angry rants about Celestia’s horn being fake…

...or the intense debates about Star Swirl’s principles of magic…

After hearing the torrents of her memories, Cheerilee picks herself up and sluggishly walks into the kitchen to prepare the same meal she eats every day: a hay sandwich.

Walking towards the cabinet, she grabs the necessary ingredients, slapping each one by one on the counter behind her. As she looks shuts the door, another memory embraces her, the picture in front of her being the trigger.

“Look, Miss Cheerilee!” an orange filly shouts. “I made this just for you!” The filly hoofs her a picture, before storming off to the rest of her friends.

“Thank you, Scootaloo!” Cheerilee shouts to the filly.

The picture in front of her would be engraved in her mind for the rest of her life.

On this picture was a ring, a ring so large that it took up majority of the page. Inside the ring was her, standing next to her chalkboard. On the board was her name written in large bold letters. Beside her name was the name of the school: Ponyville Elementary.

On her left was her podium, standing proud for all to see.

The last item on her desk was the recurring apple placed by the clever filly known as Apple Bloom, who said it was her way of thanking her for all of her work.

On the outside of the ring was all of the students’ names written in their own hoofwriting.

Her final class…

After seeing this trigger, she walks over and prepares her sandwich. She begins to angrily slap on the ingredients, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Each tear that forms, another ingredient is slapped on. Finally, she completes her sandwich, a bit of tears mixing in with the food. As she lifts the sandwich towards her mouth, she thinks about one thought that always makes the dams break.

My children...

Once the first bite is taken, the floodgates are released, her fur instantly matted like a wet rag that was submerged in a pond.

That first bite never tasted as good as the rest of the sandwich.

The sandwich in her hooves falls to the ground, and the once strong mare falls with it, curling up in a ball as she landed gracefully on her grey carpet, the tears beginning to soak in it.

The crying and wailing for her old life to return to her became part of her daily routine.

Unfortunately, this life was her permanent life and she would never get her old one back.

As the wails begin to subside, she stands on all fours and approaches her door to see the world she’s left behind.

Wiping her tears away with her foreleg, she walks outside to begin her journey to the mayor’s office.

As she trots, she notices that everypony is looking away from her except the very few who look at her with disdain.

Why do they look at me like that?

One time, when she passed by Sugarcube Corner, one of the workers approached her. That worker, was Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie loved to talk to everypony, even if their reputation seemed rather destroyed.

“How are you, Cheerilee?” the hyperactive mare asks.

“I’m...alright,” Cheerilee replies, her voice sounding foreign to her.

“Would...you like to come inside?” Pinkie Pie aks, her hoof motioning towards the entrance to Sugarcube Corner. “I could cheer you up by making you some delicious treats! Everypony loves my cookies! This one time, I gave this stallion one of my cookies and after taking one bite of the treat, he smiled and wanted to buy the whole place! I mean, I’m an astounding baker or something because that’s what he yelled and it was amaz-”

“Pinkie?” a voice questioned from behind her. “What are you doing talking to this pitiful excuse of a pony?”

“Pitiful?” Pinkie asks, as she turns to see the Mr. Cake, who was leaning against the doorway.

Mr. Cake nods and says, “She’s not allowed here.”

Cheerilee couldn’t stop crying once he said that.

Neither could Pinkie.

“But why?” Pinkie asks, her mane deflating instantly by his declaration.

“Because,” Mr. Cake answers, pointing his right foreleg towards Cheerilee. “Her abusing type doesn’t belong here.”

To this day, Cheerilee has never figured out what that pony meant.

“Now get back in the kitchen before we have a long chat about socialization, Pinkie,” Mr. Cake declared before turning to enter his establishment.

Pinkie sighs. “Sorry, Cheerilee. Maybe we can chat some other time?” she said, before turning back to Sugarcube Corner, her mane still deflated.

That was the last time Cheerilee associated with her.

It was a year ago.

Now, she walks by the place, never to be greeted again.

As she gets closer to her final destination, she looks over to see a couple sitting on a bench. The two were holding hooves and nuzzling each other, the look of love embracing them.

That is, until one of them sees her.

The mare, who was facing her direction, spots Cheerilee walking near them and pokes her stallion with her hoof. The stallion proceeds to turn around and stare at her. The two lovers now show their hate for her, their glares deadly and their eyebrows slanted.

Cheerilee sees this and looks away, finding the ground more pleasant to gaze upon.

As she approaches the door to the Mayor’s office, she looks back to see several ponies looking at her.

“Oh, is that poor excuse of teacher trying to get her job back?”

“Is that Cheerilee?”

“Why is she going there again?”

“Doesn’t she always get rejected?”

The mare sighs and looks back at the door, bringing her hoof to it. Gently, she knocks on the door.

She steps back and waits for the door to be opened.

Cheerilee hears a grumble or two before she hears somepony fumbling with the locks, the clicking and unlocking sounds evident.

Once the final lock is unlocked, the door opens slowly, creaking every so often it moves.

“Hello?” a voice asks behind the door. “Welcome to the Mayor’s office, may I help you?”

As Cheerilee is about to speak, another voice behind the door rings out, “Is that Cheerilee at the door, Miss Hemingway?"

Miss Hemingway opens the door a bit more and gazes upon Cheerilee, eyeing her down.

“Yes,” she announces back into the building. “She is here to see you, Mayor Mare.”

A loud sigh emits from behind Miss Hemingway before the voice bellows back, “Bring her in.”

Miss Hemingway brings her attention back to Cheerilee and opens the door the rest of the way. “Right this way, Miss Cheerilee.”

Cheerilee politely nods and thanks her, before walking into the building.

The two walk side-by-side towards the Mayor’s desk, the silence between them never ending.

As Cheerilee approaches the desk, she spots a chair to sit in. As she approaches it, Miss Hemingway stops her and says, “Stop.”

Cheerilee halts, freezing still in place. Miss Hemingway continues, “Only those with an appointment may sit.”

Cheerilee sighs and stands before Mayor Mare’s desk, her eyes gazing upon the mayor.

“Now, what would you want today, Miss Cheerilee?” Mayor Mare asks, her gaze never leaving the paper she is looking at.

“I’m...here to ask about j-”

“Miss Cheerilee, we’ve been over this several times…” Mayor Mare calmly interrupts. “I cannot provide you a job in this town.”

Cheerilee shakily sighs. “Why?”

“Pardon?” Mayor Mare replies, bringing her gaze upon Cheerilee.

With tears in her eyes, Cheerilee asks again with more force in her voice. “Why? Why was I removed in the first place?”

Mayor Mare raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you get a letter from the agency?”

They sent me a letter?

“No…” Cheerilee sullenly replies. “I don’t have a mailbox t-”

“Here, I have a copy right here,” Mayor Mare states, going through her filing cabinets behind her.

As she shuffles through the files, a certain somepony brings a tissue to Cheerilee, which she kindly accepts, bringing it to her eyes to wipe away the tears.

“Well, Miss Cheerilee, here is the document of your release of your position,” Mayor Mare politely states, hoofing her the forms. “You have any questions, don’t hesitate to visit once again.” With that, the Mayor looks down at the papers before her, returning to her work.

Miss Hemingway looks at Cheerilee and says, “Your visiting time is over, let’s go.”

Cheerilee brings her gaze to the assistant and sighs. She carefully walks back to the exit and leaves the office, without Miss Hemingway by her side.

As she leaves, she begins her trot back to her house. While she does this, she looks at the paper.

Why didn’t she mention this before?

With curiosity being her motivator, she quickly trots back to her house. As she unlocks the door, she walks in and lays on the dusty couch.

What she reads aloud shocks her to the core.

“Dear Miss Cheerilee,” she begins, her voice trembling as she reads every line. “On behalf of Canterlot’s Educational District, we hereby revoke your position as teacher of Ponyville Elementary due to the following reports made by parents who sent their children to the institution…”

As she reads on, the reports begin to make sense.

They were all filed by one pony who was friends with her employer and donated a hefty sum of money to the school district.

Filthy Rich - Abuse of Child. [2-9]

Filthy Rich - Abuse of Child.[2-20]

Filthy Rich - Unlawful Care of Child [3-21]

Filthy Rich - Abuse of Child [3-22]

Filthy Rich - Unlawful Care of Child [4-3]

As she notices the name, she sighs and continues reading on, reading aloud once again, “Due to these reports, we decided to investigate on your teaching methods, only to find that your disciplinary efforts were too abusive for our regulations and standards. Due to this, your teaching license and position at Ponyville Elementary are revoked.

We hope you understand and have a wonderful day.

Signed,

Knowledge Trust

President of the Board of Education”

As she reads off the last few words, she tears up.

She wasn’t replaced due to age…

...she was replaced due to her new self.

And the tears begin to fall once again...