Hello Again, Sir {s/t - complete}

What About Now?: 15.

                I stared at my first year class, the third group, and watched as they pulled out books and pencil cases. I couldn’t believe they actually had pencil cases, even I didn’t have a pen sometimes, let alone a whole case when I was at college. We'd just discussed a PowerPoint with terms and terminology and half of them looked like they were going to sleep. I had instructed them to write down different oxymorons that they could think of.

                I clicked my tongue as I sat down, wondering how much time I should give them.  I decided on five minutes and waited quietly, opening out my new laptop that Chester Montgomery had given me this morning and logged on. Suddenly, the door opened and I looked up, halfway through typing in my password.

                Lauren Rickman stared back at me with a sheepish expression and she tucker her shoulder length brown hair behind her ears as she bit down on her lip. “Sorry.”

                She sat down as I debated something, looking up at the clock. She was fifteen minutes late to class. I wouldn’t mind usually, but ever since I had gotten the job of counselling the students – Chester moved the date for the interviews to a different time without telling me reasons – I realised that these students have a lot more on their minds than just Shakespeare. I liked, now, just to make sure. “Lauren Rickman?”

                The girl, who was scrambling to get things out of her bag looked up. “Yeah?”

                “Can I speak with you outside a moment, please?”

                Some members of the classroom made funny noises like “ooh,” and “someone’s in trouble,” but Lauren ignored them as she nodded her head, hurrying out of the room.

                “I want to see all the work completed by the time I get back, okay?”

                Now the students hushed, their faces fell, and some of them mumbled apologises as the rest of them just lowered their heads and got on with things. Typical, just like students from secondary school. 

                I followed outside, where Lauren was already waiting. She was leaning against the wall and was biting her lip. She looked up when she saw I was out of the room and pushed herself away from the supporting structure and opened her mouth.

                “Before you come up with an excuse,” I interjected, “just know that if you have a valid reason for being late – let me know now. If you don’t, and were just late because you were late, I don’t want to hear about it. You’ll go back into class and list some oxymorons like everyone else. But bearing in mind, you will be on a strike, meaning if this happens again, you’ll be out of the classroom and in a detention. Is that clear, Miss. Rickman? I don’t want to seem harsh, but I appreciate students that want to learn.”

                “That’s fine.” The girl replied. “But I had a valid excuse. I just don’t want to tell you it.”

                I studied her face for a moment. She looked tired, very tired, and I knew the excuse could be anything. Remembering her in my other classes, she’s usually quiet, always frowning. A couple of times I see her smile and once I’ve heard her laugh in my class, but other than that she’s not all the happy a lot. I nodded my head. “Okay then. Just know, Lauren, we all have problems. I can sometimes be too forward and I worry a lot. Those are my traits, but I am quite understanding, don’t worry. I’ll let it go.”

                She gave me a small smile very quickly. “Thanks.”

                “In you go then.”

                “Mr. Clarke?”

                “Yes, Lauren?”

                “Do I really get a detention next time?”

                “No,” I shook my head. “Not yet. Don’t worry, you’re free for a moment.”

                “Thank you, Mr. Clarke.”

                “It’s fine.”

                She walked towards the door, her hand on the handle, but before opening it she turned back to face me again. “And Mr. Clarke?” she didn’t wait for my response. “Don’t worry, you’re not too hard on your students. You’re doing great.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind.” I grinned. “I’m glad.”

                “Sure.” 

                I walked through the door, running a hand through my hair. I didn’t like how she was being secretive because the worse is always imagined but then, if she didn’t want to tell me, she could always tell me in a counselling meeting. I walked to my desk, aware of the silence and looked to see the students all still writing. Maybe they were being silent to see if they could listen in to the conversation outside, or they had just been working the whole time, I wouldn’t know. But it would show in a moment.

                “Right. I want you all to give me some examples of an oxymoron.” I said. “Who wants to go first?”

                To my surprise, the class interacted quickly. Georgie put her hand up.

                With a satisfied smile, I motioned for her to speak up. I had to admit, every time I had taught this class they were quite cooperative. I enjoyed it because that’s a reason why I wanted to teach. I wanted to let kids get involved with their classes. I wanted them to love English the way I do. “Go on, Georgie.”

                “Virtual reality?” She said slowly, as if the fact that she was the first one to say something was scary and she automatically would have gotten it wrong. 

                “Very good. Virtual reality is completely contradicting itself. Something can’t both be virtual and real; yet it’s still used as an expression. It’s a prime example of an oxymoron. Well done.” I scanned the room. “Anyone else?”

                “An original copy?” Harlow asked. “Because although I think it’s an oxymoron, it’s pretty true.”

                “You’re right.” I replied happily.

                “There can be hundreds of copies of things, but only one of them is the original. It’s stupid calling it a copy though, because that confuses people. A copy means a replica of the original, but the original is also a copy...” Jayde muttered.

                A few students in the class looked at each other and frowned, confused at the amount of times “copy” was said. I nodded my head. “Oxymorons can be very confusing sometimes.” 

                “So old news is something similar then?” Gene asked. “Because News doesn’t just mean new things but a telling of a story. And if it’s old, it can’t be new.”

                “That’s right. But don’t get confused with News that you read in papers and see on the telly, and then News as in rumours and spoken stories.”

                “Aren’t they the same thing?”

                “There’s a slight difference.” I replied. “Any others?”

                “Act naturally.”

                “One of my favourites.” I replied. Act Naturally, isn’t that how I have to act all the time? Around Hanna? Around the college? Around Hanna I have to act like I’m just her teacher and around college I have to act like I don’t have a past with any of my students. It makes myself wonder how many people have to act naturally around here.

                “Pretty ugly.”

                “Ha!” someone snorted. “You’re pretty ugly.”

                I scanned the room quickly, in amongst a few people stifling giggles to see who had said that and a scowl made its way onto my face as I realised that Kyle had said that. I scowled at him before turning to Kodie, who was quietly hiding her face in her face, looking upset but Kyle’s remark. “Kyle Cooper.” I said in a low voice.

                He looked up at me with a satisfied grin. “Yes, Sir?”

                “Apologise.”

                The guy raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the magic word?”

                Don’t patronize me, I wanted to say, but controlled myself. It was inappropriate, wasn’t my place and it wasn’t in my nature to say aloud. Since coming to college my persona had changed and I found that being around the younger generation – even if they were only a couple of years younger – were quite vicious. But if there was one thing I didn’t appreciate it was bullying. “You shall have my respect when you earn it. Now, apologise.”

                “Nah,” the boy waved his hand and the class quietened down as I stared hard at the boy, “I think I’m good.”

                “Really?”

                “Yeah…”

                “Out.”

                The boy’s face dropped and he looked confused, sitting up more, he titled his head. “Excuse me?”

                “I will not tolerate mean and uncalled-for remarks. You won’t apologise to Kodie for saying that, and you aren’t talking in the correct manner with myself, the teacher,” I put enthuses on the word teacher, “and so I don’t want you in my class.”

                “But—”

                “Out. Please,” I said sarcastically, turning away from him. I then heard him mutter under his breath about how things were unfair as his chair scraped back. The whole time this happened, right up until the moment that he shut the door more forcefully to my classroom than I would have liked, I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at Kodie.

                I watched her face as she bit her lip. She was pretty; I had to admit, even in my position. She wasn’t ugly, like Kyle had suggested. She was far from it. She had long, soft, shiny hair and defined cheekbones that when she smiled – which had only been once in my class – they just shaped her full, pink lips, showing off her perfectly straight, bright white teeth. She had tanned skin, as if being in the sun for just a few hours would cause this and freckles discretely covered her nose. Her lips turned up the slightest and her eyes met mine. I was shocked to see they weren’t a colour I normally saw in my class. Her eyes were light. Very light. I blinked, and looked again. Her eyes were the lightest leaf green, almost pale. With specks of what looked like yellow inside.

                I pulled myself from my thoughts only moments after Kyle walked out and cleared my throat, turning back to everyone as I got and walked over to the first desk in the middle. I imagined Hanna’s face in the second seat of this row but quickly pushed this thought away. “Now, is there anyone else that wants to contribute to Kyle’s predicament or shall we carry on?”

                Hands quickly shot up.

                “Right.” I said, satisfied that the class weren’t taking the side of the bully. They believed in fairness and that I had done the right thing, which for a split-second I worried if they didn’t. “Chloe?”

                “Paid Volunteer.”

                “Very good.”

                “Civil War.”

                “Living dead.”

                “Sound of Silence.”

                “That one is used an awful lot in literature. Very good, Justin.”

                “A clever fool.”

                I chuckled. “I’ve met a few of those in my time. I’m sure some of you have, too.” I replied. If my father knew the real situation of Hanna and myself than he would call me a clever fool. That’s what he was like. I shook my head and slapped myself mentally. I had to stop thinking about Hanna!

                “Only Choice.”

                “Sometimes there is only one choice we can take, though?”

                “Yes.” I replied to Francesca. “That’s what this is all about. Things contradict themselves all the time. Things aren’t so straight forward when other things get in the way.”

                “Like feelings?”

                “Exactly like feelings.” I muttered.

                “Like a math’s teacher says “an exact estimate” they’re only lying?”

                “They’re contradicting themselves.”


                “Maths is corrupt!” someone shouted.

                I chucked and shook my head, sitting back down as I wondered what would have happened had I not become a teacher or chosen this college.