School

This is a random very short story that I came up with after a particularly hard day of school. I began putting myself in the teachers' shoes and realized how utterly impossible it must be to teach. The story started as a of a comedy bit, but evolved to somewhat of a character setup. 

     “Hogwash! I will not have this namby-pamby balderdash exercised in my presence! This horrendous codswallop must cease at once!”
     It took me twelve whole minutes to come up with that one. It served its purpose; not a single word was uttered after my quite outdated outburst. About twenty pairs of confused, judgmental eyes glared up at me with the annoyed expression only the teenage face can master.
     “Right then,” I adjusted my top, suddenly wildly self-conscious. Someone in the back of the class expelled a quick string of profanities, expertly masked by a fake cough. I stared at the general area that housed the source of the swears with what I hoped was a scary teacher expression. I sniffed in distaste to show the students that I was above such nonsense before once again nervously adjusting my top and awkwardly meandering towards my desk. My black stilettos were driving me crazy. I’m not sure which part of me decided to wear them on the obviously most stressful day of my life; the teacher part or the part that cried at the end of Finding Nemo when I thought he was dead. I guess I just needed one more thing to worry about on top of the endless paperwork and the waves of radiating disrespect and boredom emanating from the students. A great start to a great year.
     “I am required to give you this terrificly official paper about the rules and regulations of our school,” I pronounced as clearly and carefully as I could as I hobbled ungracefully around my desk. I snatched the stack of papers and practically threw them at the nearest student, instructing them to pass out the syllabus. I righted myself and shuffled some more random sheets of paper and hurriedly scribbled on sticky notes to make it appear as if I knew what I was doing.
     “This will be a rigorous course with, um,” I professionally spewed a stuttered version of the syllabus that was being handed out. I wobbled to the front of the class and stared at the lethargic, glazed-over gazes the high schoolers returned. They obviously had no interest whatsoever in the details of my class. They were practically zombies, most of them texting underneath their desks.
     Despite their apparent disinterest in me, the instant I stopped talking they all looked up at me like they suddenly expected me to go on. The scornful looks of dislike and boredom targeted me with surprising intensity. I felt like a deer in headlights.
     A rather late burst of motivation and energy from the first coffee I had consumed that morning gave me the confidence to stand up straight, look those juniors square in the eye, and blurt out the first thought that threw itself across my train of thought.
     “I can do this.”
     I wondered who the hell was talking for a moment before realizing that the strong, positive, self-assured voice belonged to me. I recognized the voice as belonging to the woman who first spoke up with some forceful mixed era profanity. I decided that both the teacher part and the admittedly crazy part of me would have to team up to control this room of baboons.
     Confidence restored, I took off my ridiculous shoes and tossed them unceremoniously into the trash can. The room began to wake up, with a rising rumble of conversation of increasing curiosity. I marched over to the board and wrote a quote that required a bit of brain power. I intended to snap them out of their digital lives and back into the real world.
     I watched their blank expressions come alive with interest as I scrawled across the chalkboard.
     “Now, class. Tell me how this quote relates to you.”
     A hand went up. And another, and another. Each one had a different intention, a different response. I remembered why I loved my job and how even though it was hard at times, the ultimate payoff of watching someone learn and prosper before my eyes was priceless.


“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." -Oscar Wilde

Comments

  1. Good Heavens, Suzanna. That was very GOOD.
    Thank you.

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  2. Did you see my friend Bette's comment on my facebook page? She loved it too. I posted this, there. xx

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    Replies
    1. Yes I did! Thanks for reposting and thank you Bette!

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  3. Delightful and as always, insightful. I do hope you haven't given up on Thea, James, and Tim. In any case, keep it coming!

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  4. Kate here! Good writing always brings a tear to my eye at the end! That was fantastic and I could hear your voice throughout. Very you. Very original. I love that you wrote so much, so eloquently, about a moment that maybe only lasted a minute or two at most. Aren't you working on a book? I'll be very excited to read it!!

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