A Story Every Hour: Part IV: The Art Room

“It’s Karaoke Friday, Miss!”

I would ignore him by turning away and shaking my head.

“Please, Mrs B? Its so much fun!”

“No, Ryan. You know I don’t allow music in the room!”

“Please, Miss, please?”

“Quiet, Ryan and sit down right now!”

He would mumble something under his breath and put his head down in despair. Next thing you knew, he was fast asleep.

This dialogue would occur just about every day.

This 6th class was as talkative as Fifth but on the collegiate level except, of course, for Ryan. They had to sit at tables because it was an art room. As with all my classes, I was reading through with them, “Their Eyes Were Watching God”. Many times I had to read it by myself because it was written in Southern dialect and nobody could say it properly. Or understand it either. Every few paragraphs, I would stop and try to explain what was going on in the book.

This group, however, tried to read it by themselves a few times. Which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. Often, they would end up talking and joking instead of reading. I then had to split them up but they ended up sitting back together again. And when I was reading it, I insisted they be quiet. This was a challenge for them. They wanted to chat with each other. Although it got old to read it to them every day, we did make it through most of the chapters of the book. This was the case in every one of my classes.

Sitting at one of the tables were three boys that joked and kidded a lot which could be annoying at times. One of them was Ryan. I labeled them the Three Stooges. They fit the description perfectly. All three were in the ROTC. When I threatened to go to their superior officer two of them pointed to Aaron, the leader of the three. When I would be upset with him – usually for not doing his work – he would point to Daisy – a young lady sitting at a different table who aspired to being an officer one day. She would yell at him to straighten up and that would end the problem right there.

I always felt like saluting her when I saw her. She was a real gung-ho military man all the way. I think she would have thrived in a foxhole and could gladly carry an 80 pound pack if they let her. However, her favorite pastime in class was applying make-up, rolling her eyes and sighing with disgust at everything I said.

The last table was a cheery bunch that did everything together as a group. Dustin was their feckless leader. The last day he brought out a board game out of nowhere named: “Halos” and they all played it after their assignment was over and they had some spare time. They had to guess what was written on their foreheads. These were expressions such as meth lab, body lotion or pooh bear and you had to ask “yes” and “no” questions to guess who or what you were. Most of them got the answers (I told you they were smart) but a few were clueless. Anyway, it was great fun and we enjoyed it.

 After all, what else would you want to do in an art room on your last day?

A Story Every Hour: Part 3: Fifth Period Animal House

“Hey, Mrs BBBBB! You look great today!” yelled Dennis as I walked into my 5^th period class. He smiled at me chewing slowly. I thought it was gum. Later, he told me it was chewing tobacco. But because of the occasional compliment, he was one of my favorite students even though he did very little work - just enough to get by.

This group was talkative one – is that a trait of juniors or what? – and the first few minutes of class had to be devoted to chatting about the day’s events before instruction began.

One, Luke, who reminded me of John Candy, would wear shirts like: “Mama Says: what happens in the barn, stays in the barn…” and “fat people are harder to kidnap” among other wonderful redneck sayings. He never did anything in class until the last week of the reporting period when his parents finally figured out he wasn’t performing and called the school. I always asked him where his book was and his classic answer every day would be “...on the toilet, miss, at home. I read it when I go, ya know?”

Another student, Jake, reminded me of Tom Hanks and looked just like him – even his mannerisms and personality. You could picture him walking down the road in a pair of overalls, a straw hat on his head, and a fishing pole over his shoulder looking like Forrest Gump.

Then there was the John Belushi of the group – D’onna a big girl who was so huge she always wanted to sit in the teacher’s chair because she couldn’t fit in her own desk. I remember I called her Donna the first day and she quickly corrected me. “It’s D’onna,” she retorted calmly, “with an apostrophe.” I quickly apologized for the oversight. However, when she spoke everyone listened and laughed. She was the class cow for sure. She ran the elmo, the TV and the DVD player and basically did anything she felt like doing. She was, after all, much bigger than me…but usually very mild-mannered and easy-going. Only once did she scream, “Party, Party!” And that was just before the bell rang and the room cleared out.

Another one liked doing a prank every day. One time, he ate too much red pepper sauce at lunch (he claimed) and his face looked red as a beet and his eyes were watering. Another day, he ran out of the room for no apparent reason.

“Where is Michael going?” I asked.

“Nowhere, miss, he just needs some space.”

I asked him where he went when he came right back in.

“I’m just messin’ with ya.” He replied with a laugh.

Another priceless time he asked me what did I do during spring break. When I didn’t respond, he said a little louder:

“Did you get laid?”

Somebody from the office handed me a note right at that moment so I was spared giving an answer and I hope he didn’t see the blush in my cheeks.

The last day he yelled at the top of his voice in a primal scream.

We just figured that was his farewell yell. I wanted to scream too – for happiness that it was almost over...

“…and let thy saints shout for joy. (Ps 132:9)”

A Story Every Hour: Part II: Fourth Period Co-Teach

This is a class I co-taught with Mrs. Smith. They were a loud and expressive group and most of it came from the boys. The nicest boy was Devon who wore an earring in each ear and was always smiling as well as talking. The first day I was there he got up and told us about his trip to Hawaii and how much fun it was and how he got to surf the big waves. He would wear shirts like “Follow me to Southern CA” or “Hollister SC” written on them.

The least nicest guy was Barrett who threw his book into the lake in the back of the school and said if he’d ever got a girl pregnant he would “punch her in the stomach.” Devon was petite and athletic; this guy was big and athletic. I think the last organ to develop on him will be his brain.

Finally, there’s Lisa who’s always laughing. She’s the only girl who speaks in the class above a whisper. You can hear her out the door and down the hallway. She likes to cook and is in the culinary arts class. She also doodles a lot all over her papers which showed you how bored she normally was with her school work.

The first day I was there I made the mistake of putting my books on her desk and she screamed “Take those !$#?@ books off my desk!” I thought I was going to get punched. I told her to move and we had a nice glare down for a few minutes. Mrs. Smith, my co-teacher told her to move, too and she finally did.

Mrs. Smith is a very stern younger lady who almost never smiled. I followed her example and tried to too, but I came across as everyone’s mom. I wish I could have been even sterner. I’ve never felt comfortable frowning all day long, however. Once and a while, I slipped into a smile or even a laugh.

 After the first day, I tried to being extra nice to Lisa. She seemed to be more responsive toward the end and liked me more. I don’t like when I clash with girls. It’s too emotionally draining. I try to get them on my side and hope to at least have a truce with them. I’m not always asking them to like me but at least get along with me.

One morning we even discussed my story “The Vortex” in class. They read it and guessed what it was about. I blocked out the ending so they wouldn’t know. Some were very perceptive and guessed it was a school. Then they wrote their own stories. I didn’t try it with the rest of the classes. I thought it would be too much exposure of my own thoughts. However, in this class Mrs. Smith had done most of the teaching so I was always treated as an honored guest. Not all of them participated so we counted the story as extra credit.

The last day was a little sad. Even Lisa said: “we’re gonna miss you, Mrs. B.” Except for Barrett. He slept through the whole class which was very nice.

I hope that some of the love of God came out in all I did there. I hope my little light shone in the darkness for a few hours of mortal existence…I hope I reached a few cold hearts and warmed them up a little…I hope they put their trust in the Lord some day…

A Story Every Hour: Part I: The Wake-Up Call

It all started innocently enough. Jessica asked to go to the clinic. She didn’t feel good.

You see, I’m subbing right now at a high school for some juniors. Yes, teenagers. Yes, those people vilified by society as practically criminals. Guess what? They’re a reflection of you and me and the world at large. They need love and support not hate or hasty judgments.

Anyway, back to the fight. Every hour is a story and it’s a story every hour. First period’s a serene but nervous group of seniors. Second period is planning or covering another class. Third period, I usually wake up and believe me it can be a rude awakening at times.

This day I gathered my stuff together since I float from room to room and tried to get organized.

Jessica came up to get a pass to the clinic. She then was heading out the door. But she didn’t make it. Next thing I know, she and Jennifer were in what looked like a whirlwind. Hair extenders were flying. Pieces of jewelry too. A cup of soda got knocked over onto the floor and spilled everywhere. Everyone was screaming. Some were shouting, “Mrs. B., break it up! Break it up!”

“No, I’m not! I will get hurt!”

Then Diamond spoke up. “I’ll break it up, Miss, don’t worry!”

She got between them and in a matter of seconds, stopped it by grabbing the arms of each one. I called the office and an assistant principal came down. By that time, they had calmed down and they were both nursing their mild wounds. Nobody got hurt except their feelings. Jessica got expelled and I never saw her again. Jennifer got two days of in-school suspension. The boys were glowing with joy. This was so much fun!

The next day, we took a few minutes at the beginning of class to talk about it. They were upset I did not break it up and I explained to them again it would’ve been dangerous for me to do it. I think they were disappointed. They wanted a better show and I would have given it to them.

Jennifer claimed that she walked into the room and just brushed up against Jessica’s arm and that’s when it all started. Apparently, there was some animosity between them that triggered the whole incident. I thanked Diamond for breaking it up and she smiled broadly with pride.

Kenny was real upset. He’s my self-appointed classroom helper. He can’t sit down more than a few minutes at a time. Claims his leg is injured.  Usually, he’s right there to help with the overhead projector or the DVD player. He was mad that he missed it. I told him that when you’re absent from class, these things happen.

I told them it reminded me of books and movies I had watched. Of course, none of them had ever heard of any of those. They’re experiences are limited and they know nothing back before the year 2000. If it’s not on Facebook, YouTube, a very recent movie or TV show they haven’t got a clue.

We haven’t had any fights since. We had some silliness which is common to this age. I go along with it unless they go too overboard with joking or talking and disrupt the class. I know where the line in the sand is and usually they stay behind it.

Still, it was an eventful few moments and I’m glad it’s over and no one got hurt. You never know third period what’s going to happen though. It’s my wake-up call every day.