knife. One of the girls had referred to her as “fat;” the other one said she looked like a tank in the dress she’d worn. She took it off that night and put it in a pile to give away. She knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing it again. And when she went out to the kitchen in her apartment that night, she finished off someone’s pint of Ben and Jerry’s, in a flavor she didn’t even like.
“Bad day?” Harlan asked as he walked in and made himself a cup of tea, and offered one to her.
“Yeah, sort of. Sophomore girls can be pretty nasty. I met my sophomore class for the first time today.” She looked seriously unhappy as she sat in the kitchen and sipped her tea, eating the brownies she had bought on the way home.
“It must be tough being so young, and teaching high school students who’re almost as old as you are,” he said sympathetically.
“I guess so. The seniors were pretty good actually. The younger ones were the worst so far. They’re just bitchy. And the juniors are always scared to death, because it’s the most important year before college, so they’re under a lot of pressure, from us and their parents.”
“I wouldn’t want your job,” he said, grinning ruefully. “Kids can be so tough. Standing up in front of thirty of them would do me in.”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with it yet,” Victoria admitted, “but I think I’m going to love it. My student teaching was fun, but I was assigned to freshman kids. This is pretty different, and these are very high-end kids. They’re a lot more sophisticated than the ones I did my student teaching with in Chicago. These guys are going to keep me on my toes. I just want to keep my class interesting for them. Kids that age can be very unforgiving.”
“They sound dangerous to me,” he said and pretended to shudder, and Victoria laughed.
“They’re not as bad as that,” she defended them. “They’re just kids.”
But the next day when she met with her seniors again, she was inclined to agree with Harlan. She was expecting both groups to hand in their writing assignments. Less than half of each class had done them. When she first realized it, Victoria looked disappointed.
“Is there some reason why you didn’t?” she asked Becki Adams.
“I had too much work to do for my other classes,” Becki said with a shrug, while the girl sitting next to her laughed.
“May I remind you that this is a required English class? Your English grade this term will depend on what you do here.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Becki said, turning to the girl next to her to say something in a whisper. And she glanced up at Victoria as she did, which made her feel they were talking about her. She tried to regain her composure, collected the papers that had been done, and thanked the students who had completed the assignment.
“For those who didn’t,” Victoria said calmly, “you have till Monday. And from now on, I expect you to turn your assignments in on time.” It threw off the assignment she had planned to give them to do over the weekend. But less than half the class had done the work.
She discussed the power of the essay then, and handed out some examples, explaining why they worked, and pointing out the strengths of each piece. And this time the entire group ignored her. Two girls in the back row were wearing iPods, three of the boys were laughing at a private joke, several of the girls were passing notes, and Becki pulled out her BlackBerry and sent texts. Victoria felt like she’d been slapped and wasn’t sure what to do. They were five years younger than she was and behaving like total brats.
“Are we having a problem here?” she finally said quietly. “Are you under the impression that you don’t have to pay attention to this class? Or even be polite? Do you care about your grades at all? I know you’re seniors, and your junior transcript goes on your college apps, but if you flunk this class, it’s not going to look so great and may keep you out of the college of your choice.”
“You’re just a temp till Mrs. Bernini gets back,” a boy in the back row called out.
“Mrs. Bernini isn’t coming back this year. That could be bad news for both of us, or good news if you decide to make the best of it. It’s up to you. If you’d rather fail this class, that’s your choice. You can explain it to the dean. And your parents. It’s very simple actually-you do the work, you get the grades. You don’t bother, and don’t turn your assignments in, you fail the class. I’m sure Mrs. Bernini saw it the same way,” Victoria said, as she walked past Becki and took her BlackBerry away.
“You can’t do that! I was texting my mom!” she complained with an angry look.
“Do it after class. If there’s an emergency, go to the office. Don’t text in my class. That goes for you too,” she said, pointing to a girl in the second row, who had actually been exchanging text messages with Becki. “Let’s get this straight, no BlackBerrys, no cell phones, and no iPods in my class. No texting. We’re here to work on English composition.” They didn’t look impressed, and while she was talking to them, the bell rang, and they all stood up. No one waited for her to dismiss the class. She was seriously disheartened as they left the room, and she put the assignments that had been turned in into her briefcase. And she was even more depressed when her second class of seniors came in, and were equally disruptive. She had been identified as the teacher to play with, be rude to, and ignore.
It was as though a memo had gone out to all seniors to jerk her around. She was near tears when Helen came into her classroom after the kids left. Victoria was gathering up her things and looked upset.
“Bad day?” she asked, looking sympathetic. Until then Victoria wasn’t sure if she and Helen were allies, but she looked friendly when she walked in.
“Not so great actually,” Victoria admitted as she picked up her briefcase with a sigh.
“You’ve got to get them in control fast before they beat you up. Seniors can be nasty if they get out of hand. Juniors are always stressed out of their minds, and sophomores are just kids. Freshmen are babies and scared to death the first half of the year. They’re easy.” She had it down pat, and Victoria smiled.
“Too bad Mrs. Bernini didn’t teach freshmen. And I’ve got a double dose of seniors with two classes.”
“They’ll eat you for breakfast if you let them,” Helen warned her. “You have to kick ass. Don’t be too nice, and don’t try to be their friend. Especially as young as you are. The kids at Madison can be great, and most of them are smart, but a lot of them are very manipulative and think they own the world. They’ll clean the floor with you if you don’t watch out, and so will their parents. Don’t take any shit from them. Trust me. You need to be tough.” Helen looked serious as she said it.
“I guess you’re right. Less than half of them did the assignment and they sat around the class texting, writing messages, and listening to iPods. They couldn’t have cared less.” Helen knew how hard that was for a young teacher, and had been there herself.
“You’ve gotta be tough,” she said again, as she followed Victoria out of her classroom and headed back to her own. “Give them big assignments, challenge them, give them an F when they don’t turn in an assignment. Kick them out if they’re not paying attention or doing the work. Confiscate their stuff. It’ll wake them up.” Victoria nodded. She hated to be that way, but she suspected Helen was right. “And forget the little creeps over the weekend. Do something nice for yourself,” she said in a motherly tone. “And first thing Monday morning, kick their asses. Mark my words, they’ll sit up and take notice.”
“Thanks,” Victoria said, and smiled at her again. “Have a nice weekend.” She appreciated Helen’s advice, and it made her like her better than she had at first.
“You too!” Helen said, and went back into her classroom to pick up her things.
Victoria walked home from school with a heavy heart. She felt like an utter failure with her two senior classes, and the juniors and sophomores hadn’t gone well either. It almost made her wonder why she had wanted to be a teacher. She had been all idealistic and starry-eyed, and she wasn’t doing them any good. The end of the week had gone badly, and she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to control them, as Helen suggested, and it would get worse. Thinking about it, she stopped to get something for dinner, and she wound up buying three slices of pizza and three pints of Haagen-Dazs ice cream in different flavors, and a bag of Oreo cookies. She knew it wasn’t the answer, but it was comfort food for her. When she got home, she put the pizza in the oven, and opened the pint of chocolate ice cream first. She was more than halfway through it when Bunny came home from the gym. Victoria had been planning to go with her all week but hadn’t had time, while she worked on her plans for her classes. And she was too tired at night. Bunny didn’t comment when she saw her eating the ice cream, but Victoria felt guilty immediately, put the lid back on, and put it back in the freezer with the rest.
“How was your week?” Bunny asked kindly. She thought Victoria looked upset.
“Hard. The kids are tough, and I’m new.”
“I’m sorry. Do something fun this weekend. The weather is going to be great. I’m going up to Boston, Bill is at
