Graf # 2
My Worst TeacherI always liked English, but there was this one year... this one year... The year I had Mrs. Murphy. Mrs. Murphy. That big, black, curly hair to her knees. She was a thin, gaunt woman in her 30s, and pregnant... She was clearly the most arrogant person I think I'd ever met. It was the 8th grade. I remember it quite vividly:
Tick...Tick...Tick... 2 minutes, and 37 seconds left! Tick... 36... Tick... 35... Eugh... This is going to take forever. I cannot believe I am sitting here because of a stupid unsigned test. It's not like I didn't want my mother to see it, I just lost track of where I threw the paper away... I mean, I told her what my grade was. I, am not ashamed. Tick...Tick...Tick... What kind of a teacher makes you sit and stare at a clock for an hour and a half, anyway? I thought punishment was supposed to be a little more productive. I'm supposed to be writing the same sentence over and over on the chalkboard, or maybe banging erasers, or, or organizing the bookshelves! Yeah! Something useful; but no, I'm stuck here... sitting with my hands folded neatly on the desk, head up, staring. I realized that if I stare at the numbers long enough, that they start to look like nothing. They look like nonsense blurbs! I must look away. It's driving me crazy. I'll stare at something else, something with more definition, something slightly more colourful or interesting... I know! I'll stare at the globe! It's colourful, and I can see the names of cities and countries I've never known to exist. There's Nicaragua. Where in the hell is Nicaragua?
"KASEY!" she yells. I jolt from my trance, heart racing, palms sweating. What did I do now?
"Yes, Mrs. Murphy?" I try not to sound overly innocent, they hate that, teachers. It makes them suspicious.
"I didn't tell you to stare at the globe, I told you to watch the clock. So peel your eyes away from the globe, and watch the time, or you'll be in here again tomorrow!" Sheesh. Pull that pole out of your ass, will you? Or maybe get a better clock. Get one of those "black cat" clocks with the swinging tails and needle-like eyes. Those are pretty neat... GOD! I have 10 seconds left to go, and she's still yelling at me. Stare at the clock! Stare at the clock! Neh neh neh, blah blah blah! Stupid.
Tick...Tick... Tick... finally!
"Mrs. Murphy, It's 4:00." This time, I try not to sound too eager to leave. She'll make me stay even later. She cocks her eyebrow at me, and sets down her pen. Glancing up at the clock, she sighs, as if she was regretting not making me stay until 4:30.
"OK, you may leave. Next time I want you to get a test signed, you better get it signed." Yes, your highness.
I hold my breath to keep from muttering obscenities, throw my bag over my shoulders, sigh, and proceed to walk out of the room. It's going to be a long, long year.
posted by Kasey @ 9/11/2005 11:21:00 AM
1 Comments:
You've really given this a wonderful ride with the dialog, inner monolog, and so on. Can I use it in class?
Post a Comment
<< Home