Walking over to my side, he throws his crab-like fist around my shoulder and pinches down again, ruining what’s left of my nerves.
He continues his little speech. “This teacher thing sounds silly to an old man like me, but what do I know? I don’t care what you try, as long as you get the advertisers on board and make it sexy.”
“Sexy,” I say.
“Hot,” he says. “The first issue needs a good model. A trailblazer.”
Trailblazer? Man, this guy is full of these nicknames.
But I know exactly what he wants. Her name is Ali.
I’m not allowed to have her number. It’s… against the rules.
“Jim. You’re in luck,” I say. “I’ve got just the girl.”
It just may take some finagling to get her to show up.
He raises a brow and gives an award-winning smile. “Well, I’d love to meet her. Bring her to the Valentine’s Day unveiling,” he says.
Uh, what? “Unveiling.”
Jim checks his phone, exuding confidence. “The announcement party,” he exclaims.
“Fundraiser,” Brian whispers.
Jim continues. “I got an email from your team leader Sandra about it. Big Momma Bear Extravaganza. Her words. Not mine.”
Dammit, Sandra. She could have let me know about this. Now, I’m going to have to think of a way to shit-can this Momma Bear magazine, and find a way to avoid this party. It’s going to take up all my energy. There aren’t enough beta blockers in the world…
Sometimes, I wonder if I should just quit.
“Of course,” I say, smile returning. “The party.”
Jim winks. “You’ve got hearts in your eyes,” he says. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
No, that’s just my capillaries bursting from stress.
I take a deep breath.
I’m so fucked.
Ali
The first day teaching is always difficult. A handful of riled-up kids would be hard for any individual to handle. The thing about coming into an abandoned classroom, it’s like a tribe. They’ve already established a code, and I have to come in as an outsider.
Well, I’ve got a secret weapon. Make them laugh.
I walk into a class of laughing monkeys and hyenas, knowing the change of leadership is going to make them a little crazy. Luckily, the transition team the dean assembled did a pretty good job at making me feel welcome. Still, I have no doubt a few of the kids are setting up artillery units with spit wads and paper bombs. I have to quickly make my defense.
Setting my lesson folder against my new desk, I remain quiet. A few of the students tell the others to hush as soon as I step in front of the class.
A moment of silence for the queen...
A devious smile forms on my face. “I... farted,” I say.
Believe it or not, this is part of my lesson plan.
The kids don’t know how to handle it. Suddenly, they’re looking at each other in disbelief, unsure whether to lob bombs at me or burst out screaming. A few more seconds pass before the first student succumbs to heavy laughter.
The rest fall like dominos.
Sure, my plan of attack is a little different from most teachers. Some use discipline. Others use a mixture of persuasion tactics and bribery with candy or an easy grade. For me, it’s better to throw myself at the whim of the people, the populace that the dean and staff regard as developing.
I know how they tick. Farting is the holy grail of funny. It’s an icebreaker that allows the craziest kids to decompress. It also allows me to see who’s the meanie of the bunch.
Thank God, Marc isn’t here.
One kid stands on his chair and points. “Girls don’t do that!”
His name is Xander. He’s the boy who accused Sammy of pushing him. Dr. Berman warned me there could be trouble, but I’m going to protect her.
“Actually, we all fart,” I say.
Most of the classmates twist and respond with glee. “Ew! Do not.”
I walk through the row of desks, and all the kids go wild like I’m parting the Red Sea. I’m sniffing, playing the part well. It’s absolutely ridiculous, and even I’m feeling the urge to crack up.
Pausing, I feign surprise. “On second thought. You may be right, Xander.”
He leans back, proud. “See. Girls don’t fart.”
I start to meander through the room, until I get to Xander’s desk. Then I make a horrified expression, the craziest I’ve ever looked. “Wait a second. I smell something. It was you,” I exclaim.
Xander shoots out of his desk like a rocket. “No,” he pleads. “It wasn’t me.”
His friends gang around him, plugging their nose. I don’t want to shame the kid, so I back off. It’s a ridiculous entrance, but there’s a lesson embedded in the hilarity to be respectful.
“Okay, guys. Settle down. It’s a joke,” I announce.
We’re talking about kids here. I have a little room to maneuver here.
Returning to the white board, I write my name in big, cute lettering. “I’m Mrs. Greenwald. I’m your teacher.”
Ironically, Xander politely raises his hand. I call on him. “Is Ms. Hamel coming back?”
Making a sad face, I shake my head. “No, but she told me personally that you guys were the best class in the school. Is that true?”
I focus on Sammy and wink. She smiles, pushing her tongue through her teeth. “Yes,” she says. “We won the spelling bee against the class next door.”
She’s so cute.
After the fart joke, clears the room, I get on to the real lesson plan. Science and biology. We’re making volcanos today. Why? Because it’s awesome. Besides, I think I need something lighthearted and fun to get my mind off of Marc.
I like him.
But he’s also a little annoying.
The point is, I’m not sure how long I’ll last.
During recess, I watch over Sammy and Xander. She swings for ten minutes before playing with the other girls. Xander, however, doesn’t seem to have many friends. He tries to join a group of boys near the slide, but after an
