The day my father-in-law, Martin, moved in with us marked the beginning of a period in my life that felt more like navigating through a tempest than hosting a guest. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy to help him out, but Martin can be difficult at times, to say the least. The backdrop of this saga is a mix of personal achievement and global chaos: I had just embarked on my career as a teacher, a profession I am deeply passionate about, albeit under the less-than-ideal circumstances of remote learning due to the pandemic. My wife, Lena, and I had opened our home to Martin, hoping to provide him some stability after his divorce and amid the housing crisis made so much worse by the pandemic.

Our guest room, which doubled as my makeshift classroom, became the center of the entire drama. I had spoken to Martin before he moved in, saying this space was essential for my work, and he had seemed agreeable. However, his behavior quickly changed in the first while of living with us. Martin used to work as a policeman but retired due to health issues. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on everything, and he harbored strong opinions about education — specifically, the subjects I taught: history, politics, and philosophy. In his eyes, these were all useless, and he would often argue that children should be taught more practical skills to better serve society. Despite my attempts to explain the value of critical thinking and understanding societal structures, my words fell on deaf ears. His critique soon escalated from the subjects I taught to a broad indictment of the teaching profession. He claimed teachers were overpaid babysitters, a perspective he shared freely with Lena whenever I was not around. Despite Lena defending my work every chance she got,Martin kept saying how pointless my job was.