I See You

Dead end. The most intense expression in the English language. I would know, I teach English for a living. Not only does it refer to a point where there is absolutely no way of going forward, it also comprises of two words that, separately, mean gone. The first word, by medical definition, meansno longer breathing. The second, by simple definition, means the farthest from the beginning. When put together, it becomes the definition of my life. I don’t intend to reinforce the stereotype that teaching is a ticket to nowhere. It’s not. As a matter of fact, I used to enjoy it very much. I didn't (and still don’t) care about a school’s prestige. Fresh out of graduation, I was on Nanny McPhee mode, ready to serve those who needed me the most. I accepted the call to help humanity one student at a time, hoping that I’d leave some impression in some hopeful kid’s mind. The first job I took was part time in a rundownhigh school, teaching four classes with an average of fifty students per class. It was a lot of work for a salary that couldn’t even cover my rent, but I took it.I thought, maybe, by thinking positively, everything would be just fine. It was a vicious cycle of:I am doing a good thing. I will become the inspiration the youth deserves. I don’t care about the money. I am doing a good thing. The children are our future. I am their hope. I don’t care that it’s a lot of work. I am doing a good thing. But here I am, seven years later, calling me out on my bullshit. The first five years were great. I worked part time for a year, then full time for three years. My fifth year of teaching was my turning point. From high school, I got to teach college. Students were mature, work load was controlled, and salary was pretty damn good. But it was almost too good to be true. My life got stale; my purpose squeezed of essence completely. So I quit and got another job in another public school teaching Literature to underprivileged high school students. And because it was a minor subject, most students didn’t take it seriously. Most aimed for the passing mark, and sometimes I would just give it to them so they wouldn’t have to repeat my subject again. The others consisted of over-achievers who want good grades to get the shiny medals, young hormonal teens who try to impress me by kissing ass, and, my favorite, students who don’t show up at all. I thought I was doing a good thing. But as the years went by, I began to realize was I was just that guy everyone had to listen to because they were supposed to. Nobody actually gave a crap about Shakespeare or Maya Angelou. They can still live a long and happy life without knowing any of them. Besides, everything was on the internet. In truth, students are just kids waiting to be grown-ups, and teachers are just grown-ups wishing they were kids again. Dead end. The funny thing about life, however, is that it will always breaks through dead ends, even if you don’t want it to. When the universe closes the door and opens a window, it’s impossible to ignore it, no matter how hard you try. You could always draw the curtains, but you would still see the sun peep through. I would know. * * * * * The first day of school experience is always different for everyone, even the teacher. In high school, students would often flock to seats near their long acquainted friends (besties, so to say) and choose the second to the last row (because teachers now tend to call students at the very front or the very back for recitations). Students who don’t know anyone often take the seats by the side near the window or the side by the door. I don’t know why, they just do. Even though I teach different year levels of high school, I’d always walk into a classroom where I don’t know half the students. It’s a big school, I’m not good with names, faces, or reputations. But since it was my now third year teaching in this school, I had a reputation without doing anything. For students who know me, I’m Sir Drew. For students who’ve only seen me around, I’m Sir Tall and Pale. It’s not bad, considering I have a colleague who’s known as Ma’am Nose Mole. I had a routine every first day of class. I’d walk in ten minutes late so the students’ hope that there was no teacher would be crushed. Also, I’m always ten minutes late. I like sleeping in most days. For a teacher, I lack some self-discipline. When I entered my first class, the room full of loud chitchat silenced almost instantly. A lot of shushing contributed to that. I’m guessing the students who knew me were responsible for that; they knew what I do to noisy students. I looked around and saw a couple of familiar faces, though I wasn’t so sure. My new contacts were still a bit blurry. I turned to the board and wrote down my name, age, and the class schedule as an example of the format they’d write on a piece of paper that would be passed to me. Once they were done filling out their papers and passing it forward to me, I stood in front of my desk and discussed what they’d expect from my subject. They all listened. Typical first day stuff. “Rules in the class. First, little to no noise, I’m easily distracted by sounds. If I hear something from anywhere, you will all feel my wrath and get some extra homework. Second, you don’t need permission to leave this class for a toilet break or a phone call or whatever. I don’t care if you show up, it’s your choice anyway. And lastly, there will be no homework on the weekends, not because I love you guys enough to respect your weekend, but because I don’t want to start my Mondays checking papers. This class is an hour long, and I intend to use up every minute of it so we will start the lecture today. Oh, yes, before I start, any questions? Remember class, there’s no such thing as a bad question. Anybody?” Before anyone could raise their hands, a loud, annoying siren began ringing. Isn’t it too early in the school year for drills? If so, then it must be real. I didn’t feel the earth shake so I’m guessing there was a fire somewhere in the building. As we were about to evacuate the classroom, the guidance counselor, whose office was across our classroom, stopped us from leaving. “False alarm, students, false alarm. Nothing’s wrong, go back to class,” she said sternly. “Shirley, what’s wrong? We heard the alarm,” I asked as the students made their way back to their seats. “Oh, S-sir Drew, hi! Good morning! So this is your new assigned classroom?What a coincidence that it’s so close to my office. We’re so close to each other. Neighbors!” she said, this time flirtatiously. I can already hear my students giggling behind me. “I guess so. Anyway, what happened?” “Did you get a haircut? I feel like your hair is shorter. I cut my hair last week during the vacation so you haven’t seen it yet. Short hair’s not bad on me, right?” “Yes, it’s quite nice. Now, about the alarm—” “We haven’t seen each other in a long time, haven’t we? I know it was just two weeks but it feels like forever.” “Sure does, so the alarm—” “You know, I have a lot of stories to tell you. Oh, I know! We should go out together for some coffee, I know this place—” “Okay class! So Ma’am Shirley here said it was a false alarm so don’t worry. Thank you ma’am, we appreciate your time.” “Oh, okay. You’re welcome.” “Thank you ma’am,” said the students in unison as she closed the door behind her. “So, where were we?” “Sir, what did ma’am say?” a student from the back row asked. “Um, nothing important. Just something about the false alarm.” “Sir, are you two in a relationship?” asked another student. “Yeah sir, how long?” and another. “Sir, do you like her too?” and another, until the whole class joined in to the conversation that is my non-existent love life. Teenagers. “Quiet. Enough,” I said as the rowdy room silenced. “W-why are you all asking about this anyway?” “Sir, no such thing as a bad question, right?” a student said, breaking the tension and filling the room with laughter. “Okay, class, settle down,” I said, trying not to laugh myself. “Change of plan. I’m no longer in the mood to lecture and you are all probably not in the mood to listen, right?” They all nod in response. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll do instead. Since this is literature, you will be doing a lot of writing exercises. Literature is a reflection of life itself, taking inspiration from human experiences. So on any piece of paper, write a short story, however short you want, explaining why the emergency alarm was pulled today. “Sir, what’s the criteria?” “Nothing. No wrong answers. Be as creative as you want.” * * * * * I had all my six classes do this activity for the whole period as well. Students are usually reluctant to do activities right away on their first day back at school, but this one, this was something I could tell they were amused by. Different classes had different experiences of this morning’s false alarm, all their stories were interesting. Many students from my afternoon class wrote about how their first class was History and whoever pulled the alarm was a superhero that saved them from boredom. Others wrote about how a ghost pulled it to scare students as part of a school haunting. There were outlandish creative answers as well. There were a few about time travelers, aliens or vampires, and there was one in particular that had all three. Many of my students in my first class wrote that Ma’am Shirley pulled it on purpose just to see me. Some wrote it in a romantic way, others in a mocking yet hilarious fashion. It’s been so long since I’ve actually enjoyed reading students’ papers. “Sir Drew! Thank goodness you’re here!” said Shirley, barging into my classroom. “Ma’am Shirley, hi. My class just ended. What do you need?” “I know I said we could go for coffee today—” “You did…?” “—but this morning was quite hectic for me. I’m going to need a huge favor.” “Okay? I’m in the middle of checking papers right now.” “No, it’s okay, this won’t take much, I promise. There’s a student in my office right now that needs to serve two hours of detention. I need you to watch her for me for a few minutes, I have to run to take care of an emergency.” “I’ll only be here until 5:45. And I have all this work to go through.” “She’ll just be sitting here, I swear. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” “Fine. Bring her in then.” “Thank you so much Drew!” she yelled ecstatically. She leaned in to try to kiss me on the cheek. I turned it into a brief friendly hug. “Good luck with your emergency, I guess. You better hurry on then.” “Right, right. Come in, Lyka,” she said as the young student entered. “Sir Drew will watch over you while I’m away. I better go now, thanks again,” she said, kissing my cheek before rushing out. “Take a seat and shut up for the next hour,” I said. She sat by the side of the window with her legs on top of the desk. We weren’t in class, so that really didn’t matter. It was none of my business, and I have absolutely no interest in her. The room was completely still, as I prefer it to be. But after a couple of minutes, she broke the silence.