An Instructor's Job Is Difficult.

--- Instructor's POV ---

When it comes to introducing young kids to acting, there are generally two distinct attitudes that emerge.

On one hand, there are those brimming with unbridled enthusiasm, envisioning the glamorous side of the profession while blissfully ignoring its challenges. On the other, there are the ones so steeped in their own perceived talent that their arrogance becomes a blinding light, often to the detriment of their potential in the cutthroat Entertainment Business.

Having guided aspiring actors at Lala Lai for years, I've grown well-acquainted with these contrasting dispositions. Yet, truth be told, I've never been particularly invested in the outcomes of their careers. As long as the paycheck finds its way to me, the eventual heights they might scale hold little sway.

Working every day felt more like a chore. Why did I even pick up this kind of job? I asked myself countless times.

Most of these fledgling talents merely hear what they wish to hear, and their success often hinges on their useless ability to selectively filter advice. Given my common moniker and the fact that few truly care to remember an instructor's name, they usually settle for addressing me as "You" or even worse, at times.

The ones that bothered to call me an instructor were easily swayed by the "geniuses" to disrespect me as they wished, and being kids, they're influenced as easily as flipping a coin. Disgusting.

Their arrogance touched a new ceiling the more I let it go.

In the midst of this monotony, however, one student stood out.

Hashibara Ren — a name that managed to escape the confines of fixed labels. During his time under my tutelage, he displayed an uncommon interest in getting to know me personally. A seemingly minor gesture, but for someone so frequently dismissed as a background presence, it held a significant impact. He made me feel valued and acknowledged, kindling a renewed passion for my craft.

He seriously asked me questions related to acting, asking me to objectively tell him what he should do. The kid had passion and talent, but he also didn't let it go to his head. He wanted to properly shine as an actor, and I was more than happy to do my best efforts to turn him into a real prodigy.

He also defended me from the kids who tried to sway him, even if it could've gone against him in this kind of business where all of them had behind rich daddies and mommies.

I felt really grateful that someone was considering me a human being.

Did we do a good job together? I guess we did, mainly because he also added his own.

With his attentiveness, he breathed life into the classes I led. His actions lent credence to my words, reinforcing the idea that what I was teaching actually mattered. In a profession that sometimes feels like an endless parade of indifferent faces, Ren was a breath of fresh air, a testament that someone in the room truly cared.

In essence, he made my job feel like more than a means to an end. I remembered why I even bothered to pick this job up. And so, genuine respect for the young boy blossomed within me.

I began to closely follow his journey, his achievements becoming my own source of pride. Should time permit, I've already decided that when he's of age, I'll extend an invitation for a dinner outing. Maybe being friends is asking for too much, given our age gap, but I think we can at least stay as co-workers that along well.

However, my respect for him is not free from worry. I've witnessed countless aspiring stars falter and fail, often due to circumstances beyond their control. The entertainment industry is notorious for its dark underbelly, and the prospect of Ren being sullied by its dirtiness gnaws at me.

Yet, even as concern tugs at my thoughts, there's a ray of hope. I'm not alone in my support for him; many, like me, have been touched by his genuineness. Rumors even reached us that another agency sought to lure him away with a more lucrative contract, but he staunchly remained with Lala Lai. His loyalty to us and his attachment to this place resonated deeply, affirming our faith in him.

It's no small feat to stand out in such a competitive and often cutthroat industry, and yet, Ren can manage it well. He remembers names and can form connections without expecting anything out of it — qualities not typically associated with an aspiring star. It's yet another reason why I believe he's truly exceptional.

Anyways, today I was in a bad mood because the new batch is filled with "geniuses" ready to look at me like I'm an ant and they're the big bosses.

However, my sour mood took an unexpected turn when I received a piece of uplifting news. Ren would be coming to tell the kids how to properly adjust in this industry, with his first-hand experience of having a tough time here.

He did not have any professional obligation nor was it a publicity stunt to garner attention. Instead, it came as a result of his sense of camaraderie with those starting out in this challenging business as child actors.

Ordinarily, when someone claims altruism in an industry like this, I'm quick to raise an eyebrow, and for a good reason. Such sentiments are often thinly veiled attempts to forge connections for personal gain. But Ren did not have such an objective. If he bothered to do so, then he really felt he had to do his own, which I am a little glad for. At least, this new batch will see that with the right attitude, they will be able to go far, just like him...