Mrs. P's Class

November 13, 2008
For the longest time I can remember me, Ted and Annie hanging out on the weekends, chatting between passing periods and staying up all night on the 3-way. We have been the best of friends since our parents were a part of the PTA in the third grade. Back then, Annie had blonde hair and was your typical school girl. She came to school in her frilly little dresses everyday, but you could tell she hated every minute of it. Ted was what you would call your typical nerd. I remember kids used to tease him about the size of his rather large ears that cradled his rather small glasses, but I will give him this one, he always had the coolest lunchboxes with superheroes on them. As for me, well I’m pretty much the same boring kid with no color in the closet. Things about us have changed. For instance, Annie decided to make decisions for herself, broke out of her shell, and now has dark brown hair. Ted doesn’t carry lunch boxes anymore; he is really more into football and girls than Pokémon and Super Mario Brothers. Even though our exteriors have changed, we’re still the same people inside.
We decided early on in our friendship that we all had to have at least one class together every year. We’re going to be freshman next year at Bay-view High School. All of us knew how hard it would be to have a class together in such a big school with an estimated 5,000 students. So, when the time came we decided on Spanish. We made this decision based on the fact that it was the second most common language and because all three of our parents forced us into the class. Well, everything worked out pretty close to perfect; we all got the class our freshman year, but one person got left out - me. I was alright with this mainly because I was still taking the same course, just during different class periods. So now were in the fourth week of school. Here is just one day in the life of me:
“Just kill me now,” she said.

“Her class isn’t even that bad,” he replied.

“Yeah it really is, like she doesn’t even have a degree in what she is teaching, she has no clue!” she argued.

I tried to intervene, but figured that Annie and Ted could figure this one out.

“Sometimes it seems like she wants to see her students fail,” said Annie angrily.

“Maybe you just need to stop being immature because I personally think that Mrs. P is a fantastic Spanish teacher!” Ted rebutted.

“I mean she is alright but I don’t think she knows how to help her students. Sometimes it seems like she is oblivious to the outside world. And I’m not being immature, I am stating the facts. I mean Mrs. P went to college to study Horticulture,” explained Annie.

At this moment I accidently dropped my book in the middle of the hallway. The tension let up a little bit. The bell rang and we had to go to class. Poor Annie had to go to Mrs. P’s class. I thought to myself that most likely the controversial subject will be mentioned over lunch...

“That was horrible.” Annie stated as she stuffed a slice of cheese pizza in her mouth.

“The class can be what you make of it; you should try to get along with her. She really is pretty lenient, but you just have to be on her good side,” replied Ted.

“I try to be all of the time. She is such an angry person. I honestly think that she hates kids,” Annie said with her mouth full

“That’s just absurd Annie! I think she cares about her students but she is not just gunna hand out free A’s like you would enjoy. You have to work for those grades Annie,” Ted asserted.

“I do work for my grades!” screamed Annie defensively.

This was getting good I thought to myself. I started to wonder if this argument was going to end up with a full out brawl!

“You just don’t understand because you have always been the teachers pet.”

“Listen Annie, This is un-called for, I’m sure if you talk to her about how you feel she might cut you some slack, don’t go and try to blame things on me,” said Ted

“Doubt it. She already hates me. I make great grades Ted, almost all A’s maybe one B , but in her class I am failing. My mom found out and kept asking me why my grade was so low. Truth is I don’t know why it’s so low. I turn in ALL of my work. It’s kinda like it’s not good enough for her, and at this point I am not sure what to do,” replied Annie

“Well I mean I’m not in the class with you so I don’t know your classroom behavior. Like I said Annie, it would be beneficial for you to talk to her and explain yourself,” elaborated Ted.

“I just wanna be me though, I don’t wanna have to sugar coat things for her, and I shouldn’t have to,”

“Annie, I think you know what to do.”

“Yeah, I think I know too,”

By this time their voices have changed, Ted sounded a little more sympathetic and Annie sounded a little reassured. Lunch was almost over by this time and I could hear the sound of teeth chomping, slowly come to a stop. The trays were being tossed upon the dishwasher’s station and the garbage bins were flowing with remnants of what was on today’s menu. Ted and Annie had resorted to silence and it was somewhat awkward. Finally, the bell rang and it was time to go back to class again. I made my way down the main hallway and towards Mrs. Ps Spanish class. Kill me now!
I walked into her class, took my seat and just prayed that the 70 minutes would go by fast. Unfortunately for me, the bell rang and Mrs. P walked into the room and stood at her rinky-dink podium. She said a sentence in Spanish…
“La clase de la buena mañana, saca por favor tus libros de trabajo españoles y los abre hasta la página 12” or “Good Morning class, please pull out your Spanish workbooks and open them up to page 12”.
I wish I could understand Spanish like I understand English. By the time I figured out what she said the whole class was already putting the pencils to the paper. So I did the same, trying to stay cool about this whole “Spanish” thing. My mind kept twisting and turning, not letting me concentrate. Annie was right. I thought to myself , Mrs. P really has no clue. Just at that thought I looked up. There she was, hovering over my shoulders. With only one answer written down in my book, I panicked.
“Are you understanding this alright?” asked the voice,
Without looking up I simply replied “yes.” I knew who it was, Mrs. P, and she really didn’t want to help me. Sometimes you can just tell these things. It felt like more of a forced action. After about ten more minutes on doing verb conjugations, Mrs. P assigned our homework for the night and then out of the middle of no-where, the bell finally rang. I packed my stuff away in my over-the-shoulder bag, and headed for the door. Just then, a cold firm hand rested itself ever so gently on the sleeve of my long gray shirt. I quickly turned in the direction of the hand. Mrs. P was standing there.
“I have noticed you struggling in my class for the past week or so, I am not sure if I have made this known to you, but I offer help sessions every Wednesday after school from 2:00-3:30 p.m.”
Not sure of what to say I simply replied, “Oh.”
“I think it might be something that could really help you. I think you have the skills to learn Spanish but you get a little overwhelmed at times.” Said Mrs. P

It made me smile to think that Mrs. P thought that I had potential. She didn’t just jump to conclusions and think I was one of those lazy students that don’t apply themselves. Truth is…I actually try really hard to do well in school.
“Sounds like its something I should look into, I just really don’t get the whole “Spanish” thing,” I replied.

After a few laughs Mrs. P wrote me a pass to my fifth period class. As I walked down the hall I realized that everyone should be given a second chance. It’s a good thing that tomorrow is Wednesday.

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