"Do not turn staff into teachers" was one of Yang Ruoqian's better orders.
It had clarity. It had restraint. It defended labor cost, blocked education branding, and prevented the old cinema from becoming a classroom with ticket stubs. Most importantly, it sounded responsible enough that no one could accuse him of hating students, history, safety, parents, or old projection equipment.
Yang Ruoqian was proud of the sentence for almost one hour.
Then Director Chen returned with an implementation plan.
"We will not turn staff into teachers," he said.
Good.
"We will train them to avoid teaching."
Bad.
Yang Ruoqian slowly raised his head. "Repeat that."
"If staff do not know where the line is, they may over-explain. So we will train them to give short, consistent service answers and transfer complicated questions away."
Every part of that sentence was reasonable. That was why Yang hated it.
"No class," he said.
"No class. Just a short briefing."
"No teaching material."
