Teacher, Teach her.

I walked into the classroom late, by a minute. But late, nonetheless. I caught the eyes of a fellow instigator who caused Mrs. Polanka an endless amount of stress. He flashed a smirk at me, and I could see Mrs. Polanka was already flustered, no doubt because of this young man. But upon seeing my bloodshot eyes, his countenance changed. As did my favorite audience, Lauren and Bonnie. Other students whose giggling prompted me to be the ultimate instigator. Each one of their stifled laughs pushed me to a new limit. They too, were smiling, excited I had arrived, and then upon seeing my red, red eyes, became scared for me.

            Bonnie’s eyes grew wide, she leaned back to whisper,

            “Sarah, you’re eyes are so red!” They were afraid it may not just be the usual high jinks with me getting kicked out. This could get me sent out of school completely. I took my seat and averted my eyes down as Mrs. Polanka interjected,

            “Bonnie! Please, no talking.” Mrs. Polanka and I were at a point where, I didn’t exist in the classroom until the moment I became a problem, at which time I was to take my desk into the hallway, until the bell rang. At some point the "moment" occurred each day within a few minutes of class beginning. But lately I'd lost some steam and complied with the teacher in glaring silences.

The school had begun a new program where classes were longer and met every other day, instead of each day. But in order to fit in seven classes there had to be one that met everyday. The school had made the mistake of placing it at the end of the day, a volatile time of day for hormonal teenagers. Perhaps, Mrs. Polanka and I would’ve gotten along swimmingly if the class met each morning instead. No such luck for the feeble Mrs. Polanka, who on a daily basis lost her cool and emitted hysterics. Energy that a smart, bored teenager could sink their teeth into with ease.

            The best part of it all, was that it was an English class, and I read all the books assigned. I hated A Midsummer Night’s Dream, felt it to be nonsense. I also read every word of To Kill a Mockingbird, and really loved it. But at that point, the war between us had begun, so if I tried to contribute in a serious way Mrs. Polanka shot me down, in a panic, assuming she was being made fun of. I took up the habit of keeping my analyses to myself. If she had paid the slightest bit of attention she would’ve noticed that I liked to read. Clearly a fan of Holden Caulfield. But she was more interested in control, she had no inkling of how to connect or be human. All she cared about was order. It was evident in the way she spoke, every word so carefully articulated. In a few weeks we gathered that we were in purgatorial public schooling, she'd tell us daily,

            “I taught in a private school and in private school this would be completely unacceptable behavior,” which again was a point of entry for predatory instigating teenagers.

Mrs. Polanka spoke in her rehearsed sing-songy voice,

            “Okay, class. Today we’re going to an assembly. We get the special privilege of seeing a sneak preview of The Madrigals. And featured will be Nancy Ross, who I have in one of my classes and she is just a model student, perfect in every way. So come on kids, let’s gather our things.”

As we began our approach to the auditorium Bonnie and Lauren caught up with me,

            “Holy shit! Sarah! You got so lucky.” I smirked and nodded. I found pot took the piss right out of me and this seemed to make both me and Mrs. Polanka happy.

Once the kids settled in their seats, the performance began and in the audience the snickering and gibing began. Almost every kid I knew in school was pretty creative but while at school there were confines. Only musicals made the stage. Not even a normal play, but definitely not any of the kids who were in a band outside of school. Only sports and musicals. 

            After the group of performers sang a few, the aforementioned Nancy Ross took center stage and began to sing an old standard made recently popular by Kathie Lee Gifford:

            If they could see me now

            That little gang of mine

            I’m eatin’ fancy chow and drinkin’ fancy wine…

I couldn’t even laugh with Lauren and Bonnie anymore. I focused in on Nancy with the tireless smile pasted, as her face contorted the vengeful words into a happy show tune. The girl seemed she would literally explode into pieces. A combustion of enthusiasm.
          I craned my head back to see Mrs. Polanka. She too, had a perma-smile. She'd put on a special scarf and lipstick and appeared to be enthused. Except for the moment she saw me and her face immediately contracted to the taciturn frown I was accustomed to.

I was surprised that she was so supportive of this. It seemed so soulless and ridiculous. Even though we were enemies, I could always detect the passion she spoke with when she went over certain passages. But she could only tolerate a character like Scout Finch, in a book, because it was deemed worthy. She couldn’t see the real-live human forms of Scout sitting in her classes each day.