Miss Marva

A New Student

TWO YEARS LATER

Madam Charlee scanned me through her thick glasses, asked me to sit down, and dropped a book between us. I knew she was not in a good mood. I adjusted my seat; I needed enough space to listen to her sermon. It was not my first time.

“Do you know why I call you in?” She pulled papers from the drawer.

I did not need to answer that. Madam Charlee always started the teacher evaluation with the same questions over and over.

Majoring in social science was a mistake. It sounded so cool; I made many decisions based on how cool it sounded, looked, and felt when I was younger. This coolness landed me no job. I had tried to apply to many companies; they had not even invited me to an interview. I got many As, but they seemed to mean nothing. It felt pathetic that at the graduation ceremony people clapped their hands because I graduated with honor; it promised me an excellent career ahead. The sad thing was, it did not impress interviewers when I applied for a job. They wanted at least three years of job experience; I just graduated.

It surprised me that many male human resources offered a job, but I had to sleep with them. No way I did it. I needed money, but I was not a w***e. So, I ended walking in a school gate. I wished I had turned back that day. They liked my grades because their products were grades. The school leaders believed that a teacher’s success in college would reflect on the students' grades; an A's teacher produced A's students. They made a mistake.

“Parents are complaining about their children’s scores. 70% of them did not pass.” Madam Charlee handed me the score list. “You know what it means, right?”

When the student failure exceeded 50%, the school agreed to blame their teachers.

“I’ve never seen students learning this slow.” I picked the list. The highest score was 90.

“The problem is, Miss. Marva, you aren’t generous enough.” Madam Charlee forced a smile. “I could not save you this time, the school board is discussing your future.”

No matter how I hated my job, I still needed it. I could not lose a job for my upcoming wedding. Losing my sole source of income scared me. Cody had no job; I could not count on him for the wedding expenses.

“What do you want me to do?” I dropped the score list.

She took the list, picked a pen, and encircled several names. “Pass these students. Their parents had sent all of their kids to our school. Plus, they are generous benefactors.”

I scratched my hand; changing their grade did not help the students. I shook. She folded her arms on her chest. “I wanted to help You, Marva, but you refused. Remember that.”

She dismissed me. I reached for the doorknob.

“Wait. A new student is coming. He will be in your class.”

“Okay”. I went to my classroom.

We had just read one paragraph in a chorus when Madam Charlee knocked at the glass door. I asked one student at the front to open the door. A boy came in. He scanned the class and looked down.

“Guys.” Madam Charlee flipped her hair. “This is Farrell, a new student.”

“Hi Farrell,” said the whole class.

“Introduce yourself,” said Madam Charlee.

Farrell did not look up; his eye locked on the floor. He scrubbed his right shoe against the floor.

“Farrell?” Madam Charlee approached him.

“Sorry.” He looked up. “My name is Farrell. I just moved from another city. Thank you.”

The girls cheered. Their eyes trailed him as he strolled to his seat.

Molly told me that Madam Charlee wanted to see me. I hurried to her office; a man sat facing Madam Charlee. She asked me to sit. He reached out to take my hand; our eyes met. I froze.

“Miss. Marva?” Kade snatched my hand and shook it.

“E…yes.” I pulled my hand.

Not again. The last person I wanted to see was Kade. I and Molly never crashed a party after that funeral ceremony; we had our lesson. To make the case worse, Kade had become the school client. I had no way to avoid him since Farrell was in my class. All parents had access to the homeroom teacher's phone number.

I exaggerated it. Kade probably had forgotten the incident. I had changed; after earning income, I had the money to buy decent make-ups. Kade had not changed; he even looked more handsome. I realized he still applied the same scent. My cheek turned red.

Madam Charlee adjusted her hair from time to time, leaning to the front, and touched the man’s arm when she got the chance. I caught myself glancing several times. Oh, God. Part of me felt so excited about having him as my student’s parent. The homeroom teacher had the right to talk to parents about their children’s problems at school. I had the means.

“Please watch my son for me. Don’t hesitate to call if he caused trouble.” Kade shook our hands and walked out.

Madam Charlee dropped herself on her chair and stretched her arms. She smiled and stared at the door. A few seconds later she realized I was still inside.

“Oh. Marva. You should watch his son well.”

I heard the excitement in her voice. Madam Charlee was near forty; never got married.

“Don’t you think he is handsome?”

“Maybe.” I glanced at the door.

For the first time in twenty years of working in that school, we discussed something non-academic.

I and Molly stopped by a coffee shop and ordered two cups of black coffee. I dropped my bag on a chair next to mine; a piece of Jazz music lighted the hot afternoon. I sipped my coffee. Bitter, like life. Molly had been staring at me. I promised her something.

“Come on. What’s it?” She reached for a cake on the table.

After fastening my hairband, I locked my palms.

“You need money to buy the lipstick?” She eyed my lips.

I pouted my lips that she slapped it gently; we laughed.

“I am not that broke that we have to crash a party.” The words just came out of my mouth.

Molly studied my face. “That was two years ago. Why do you suddenly mention it?”

I touched my right earing, moving it up and down.

“Fine. Kade was the father of the new student.”

Molly slammed our wooden table and spilled our coffee. Few guests glanced at us.

“Sorry.” Molly took a tissue and cleaned the table. She dragged her chair close.

“Are you sure?” she whispered and held my arm.

I nodded. “But he did not mention anything about the incident.” I tried to entertain myself.

“But it doesn’t mean he forget.” Molly sounded worried.

Molly said the truth; Kade might still remember the incident. I started to worry about my job. If Madam Charlee knew what we did two years ago, that could be a reason to throw me out of this school. I was already at the edge.

“You should treat his son well. For you and me.”

I forced a smile. Molly hugged me. “Let’s hope he forgets the incident.”

Twinkle meowed and jumped onto my lap. She always rested on me whenever I laid on my bed. I just finished a week's lesson plans which I hated making. They helped in teaching; they acted like a map when you traveled. I loved to make adjustments while teaching the students, while Madam Charlee always told me to stick to the activities. That became our source of argument during principal-teacher supervision.

I killed the screen. Social media had poisoned my life. Seeing pictures of female friends having a vacation on white beaches, shopping in some expensive stores, sleeping in luxurious hotels, and buying new cars or pieces of jewelry made me envious. Why could not I live like them?

Those girls never did well at college. I was the best. My friends envied me; I was the model of a successful collegian. Hard to believe, the students whom teachers predicted to have a dim future did much better than me. I started to question the validity or the credibility of schools in determining future success. The sad thing was, now I worked in a school. Twinkle licked my arm; it tickled. I rubbed her head.

I just dropped my phone when it rang. Twinkle leaped and meowed away. It was a new number, but I pressed the green phone icon.

“Hello.”

Silence. I heard movements at the end of the line. “Hello, Miss. Marva?”

I acknowledged the voice. Kade just called me. The way he said my name was different.

“Yes. Anything I could help?” I calmed myself.

“Just checking out.”

The call ended.