"Come in," he said.
The room without a class felt larger. Late light again, but thinner. He had written three problems on the board—each difficult, each complete, each solvable with sweat and care.
"No traps," he said. "I wrote them this morning. You can check my work if you want. I'd deserve it."
Imani almost smiled. She didn't. She set her backpack down and took a marker.
They worked for forty minutes. He did not praise her constantly; he asked questions that forced her to defend steps. When she made a small arithmetic slip, he waited for her to find it. When she found a cleaner path than his, he said, "Use yours." It was good teaching. It did not erase Wednesday. Good teaching and harm could share a calendar; that was one of the unfair facts of school.
Near the end he sat on the edge of his desk, not towering.
"I meant what I said in the meeting," he said. "About the filter. I learned it here as a student, actually. Halberd, class of—well. Older than I look on good days. Teachers used 'challenge locks.' We thought we were being initiated. Some of us were just being sorted. I told myself I was improving the method. Transparency around the edges. Still using the lock."
Imani capped the marker. "Why tell me?"
"Because you already saw it," he said. "And because if I only confess to other adults, I get to keep controlling the story."
"Are you going to stop?"
He looked at the board, at his honest problems. "I'm going to stop using undisclosed impossibility in my classroom. I can't promise what the department does collectively by next month. Dean Wexler likes gradualism. Gradualism protects institutions."
"Gradualism protects people who aren't being filtered right now," Imani said.
He winced, then nodded. "Yes."
She logged the session in her notebook as Rhea had asked: date, problems, no traps, forty minutes. He initialed when she requested it, eyebrows up, then compliant.
"Same time next week?" he asked. "Optional."
"Optional," she repeated. "I'll come if the problems stay honest."
"They will."
Walking to the bus, she felt neither triumph nor collapse. She felt like someone carrying a fragile arrangement of glass and trying not to jog.
---
Peer fallout arrived sideways.