“I wish I’d spent my summer vacation in a bordello in Morocco,” one boy said, and everybody laughed at his irreverence. Making fun of a teacher was something kids always enjoyed at every age. It was a thought Victoria couldn’t imagine the boy saying, but she didn’t react. Kids that age liked to shock adults. She gave no indication that he had.
“That would work,” Victoria said calmly, “as long as I believe you. If I don’t, you’re out of luck. That’s the hitch. Make me believe you, make me care, make me fall in love with the characters, or with you. That’s the whole point of writing, to convince the reader that what you’ve written for them is real. And in order to do that, you have to believe it too. Have fun,” she said, as the rest of the students left the room.
Victoria had a break between classes then, and sat at her desk making a few notes, when Helen, the teacher from the next classroom, walked back in. She seemed to be interested in everything Victoria did. Carla Bernini, the teacher on maternity leave, was her best friend, and Victoria wondered if she was defending her buddy’s turf, or at least keeping an eye on it for her.
“How did it go?” she asked as she sat down in one of the chairs.
“Pretty well, I think,” Victoria said honestly. “They didn’t throw things at me, or hit me with any bottle rockets. No stink bombs. And I kept it short, which always helps.” She had done that with her student teaching too. You couldn’t sit around forever, talking about writing. You just had to do it, no matter how hard and daunting it was. “The assignment I gave them was easy. It’ll show me what they can do.”
“It must be difficult stepping into someone else’s shoes,” Helen said randomly, and Victoria shrugged.
“I try not to think about it. We each have our own style.”
“What’s yours?” Helen asked with interest, as though she were interviewing her.
“I don’t know yet. Today is my first day. I graduated in May.”
“Zow! That’s got to be pretty unnerving. Aren’t you a big brave girl.” Her tone reminded Victoria of her father, but she didn’t care. She knew she had done a good job. And Helen could challenge her all she wanted, for whatever reason. Victoria knew she would have to prove herself to the teachers too, not just the students. But so far she thought it had gone well.
Victoria’s next class came in an hour later, and this time several of them were seriously late. They were seniors too.
The assignment she gave them was different than the first one.
The topic this time was what I want to be when I grow up, and why. “I want you to put some serious thought into it. And I want to respect and admire you when I’m through reading. It’s okay to make me laugh. Keep it light, unless you want to be an undertaker or embalmer. But short of that, I want to laugh.” And then the second class left too. She had held her own with both groups. And she had met all her seniors now. They seemed like good kids and hadn’t given her a hard time. But she knew they could if they wanted to, and she was very young. They didn’t have any particular allegiance to her yet, but she knew it was too soon. She hoped they would in time. And she knew that the level of their respect depended on her. It was her job to make them care.
Helen stayed and talked to her for a few minutes, and then they both packed up their things and left their classrooms. Victoria checked her mailbox on the way out, and then sat in the teachers’ lounge poring over a stack of memos from the headmaster and the dean of students. There were several announcements, mostly about policy changes that impacted the school. She went to an English department meeting that afternoon, and when she left the building, it took her ten minutes to walk home. She loved living so close. She wanted to walk to work every day.
When Victoria got to the apartment, everyone asked how her day had gone. They were all there.
“It was actually terrific,” Victoria said happily. And Gracie called her and asked her the same question an hour later, and she gave her the same answer. Essentially, it had gone really well, and she liked the kids. They might have been around the world with their parents, and had every lesson known to man, yet there was something innocent and endearing about them. And she wanted them to learn to think intelligently, use good judgment, and wind up with the life they wanted, whatever and wherever that was. Her job, as she understood it, in this school or any other, was to open the door into the world for them. And she wanted to open many, many doors. They had begun.
Chapter 10
Victoria met her junior and sophomore students on the second and third days of school, and she was surprised to find them much harder to deal with than the seniors. The juniors were stressed about the heavy workload they’d have that year, which would count more than any other year in their applications to colleges, and they were afraid she’d give them too much homework. And the sophomores were unfriendly and almost belligerent, and there was no harder group to teach than fifteen-year-old girls. It was everyone’s least favorite age, and Victoria’s too, with the exception of her sister Grace, who seemed nicer than most girls her age. There was a nasty quality to them, and Victoria heard two of the girls talking about her size as they left the class. They talked just loud enough for her to hear them, and she had to remind herself that they were just bratty kids, but their comments cut through her like a 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.”