Being tardy to any appointment, meeting, or class one may have is disrespectful. It leads to interruption of schedule and time. Even if one is to have a legitimate reason as to why he/she is late, one should understand that entering class and blurting out a whole story as an excuse is not the manner in which he/she should approach the situation, unless he/she is asked. One should also know the character of the person in which they are speaking to. Understanding my Pre-Calculus teacher (and her hatred for wasted time) better than most, I write a quick note right before I enter the class. (She had taught me in my freshman year as well)
It reads: “I’ll explain my tardiness after class. I’m sorry!”
Silently, I enter the classroom masking my irritation with an air of confidence. Dmitri’s clothes drape over my body similarly to curtains. I feel so tiny compared to him, but who am I to complain for such kindness? I may never admit it out loud, but my appreciation for Dmitri is greater than one may imagine.
Mrs. Delaskey pauses in mid-sentence to face me. The class is also inconveniently quiet. I then catch the eye of her. Why out of all classes must she be in mine? I angrily tear my gaze from her and amble towards the teacher. I hand her the small folded up paper and locate an empty seat. Mrs. Delaskey unfolds it and scrutinizes the contents on the note. She shakes her head and sets the paper down, thus returning to her introduction of Pre-Calculus.
See how little time that wasted?
She promises that the year will be filled with activities in hopes to make the class a better learning experience. I notice how some students roll their eyes while a couple are too busy texting beneath their desks to realize she’s even talking. I let out a breath of annoyance.
It bothers me more than anything to see a teacher being disrespected. It is one of my many pet peeves, but I stay silent. It is no use attempting to change their behavior; teenagers’ heads are harder than a rock. I would know; my head is rock-hard. Some students just do not recognize the amount of work teachers actually put into their job. While it may be hard for these students to understand, these teachers actually care about us. Some schools have the laziest teachers, while we bask in the care of our teachers and still give them disrespect.
Feeling someone’s eyes boring into the back of my head, I turn to look behind me. The mousey new girl, Megan, suddenly finds interest in the blank paper settled on her desk. The corner of my mouth twitches upward.
“These last ten minutes shall be yours. Use it wisely!” Mrs. Delaskey announces. The students all turn to their neighbor and commence in idle chatter.
“Did you need something, Megan?” I then ask. She looks up at me and quickly shakes her head. “You keep acting like I’m about to swallow you whole…never mind, just focus your stare somewhere else, I can feel you looking at me and its uncomfortable.”
“It’s just—“
She is interrupted by Mrs. Delaskey’s voice, “Miss Daehler, may I speak to you now?”
I redirect my attention to the teacher and nod my head. I glance back at Megan and mumble, “Hold that thought.”
I then saunter towards the teacher’s desk. She gives me a small smile and thanks me for not completely interrupting her class with a tragic tale explaining my tardiness. “Believe it or not, you were not the only late student to my class. I had another student who came in panting, apologizing and put the blame onto another student. Do you know who was blamed?”
“Well, I suppose you’re speaking of me.”
“Yes, I am. Megan—“she gestures with her hand in Megan’s direction. Megan notices and her eyes widen in anticipation. “—has, unnecessarily, explained to me why she was tardy.”
“Yeah, she tends to do that,” I mutter. Always an explanation, never a solution.
“Anyways, she claimed that after accidently (mind you, she used this word twenty times) spilling coffee on someone, that person had created a whole scene and that the issue could not be settled until a third-party was able to come and solve it.”
“Of course she would blame me instead of herself,” I say, resting my hand on my hip.
“Well, were you going to blame yourself in your explanation to me?” She asks enlighteningly.
I shake my head, smiling, “I wasn’t going to blame anyone. I was just going to explain what happened without all the drama. I wouldn’t dare waste your time like that.”
She sighs, “the issue is: Megan has described you to be the perfect bully. I don’t think she knew you would be in this class when she said that. The only reason I’m even sharing this with you is because I know you to be a smart and mature person. Probably the most mature student I have ever met and I don’t think you would resort to acting haughty towards others.”
My cheeks heat with shame, yet I try to retain my composure. “To be honest, I was a bit condescending, but I do have my reasons and I was planning on apologizing to her tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“She really upset me and I need some time to cool down.”
“That’s understandable, dear. I am going to excuse your tardy only because I admired your approach to being late. Be on time next class,” she advises with the smallest of a smile. Mrs. Deslaskey, with her thick brown hair tied up neatly into a bun, was rumored to be the strictest teacher in Watchtower Academy. Dmitri and I were able to demolish that rumor after a month with her. She had warmed up to the two of us quite easily. “Return to your seat.”
“Thank you ma’am,” I say, turning on my heels and head back to my seat.
Sweeping my blonde hair behind my ear, I face Megan with a curious look, “Now….what were you saying?”
Her mouth parts open, as though to speak, but then it closes. She seems to be struggling with her thoughts or maybe her courage to speak with me. It bothers me. Rarely anyone struggles when talking to me. I don’t mean to sound boastful, but my conversations with others have rarely ever been considered awkward. There’s a first for everything, I suppose.
“Megan, I’m begging you. Say something.” I have never felt as uncomfortable with someone as I do with her.
The bell then rings. Relief washes over Megan’s expression as she hops out of her seat and basically bolts from the room. I let out a breath of annoyance and gather my things silently. Why is this girl so difficult? Maybe she is just at a level of shyness that I cannot comprehend….
“Having trouble with the new girl?” The perky voice surprises me and I shoot my gaze in her direction. A smiling red-head beams at me.
“I’m alright, thank you. Annalisa, right?” I say in an attempt to recollect her name. She was in a couple of my classes sophomore year.
She sighs irritably, “Just call me Anna, please. Annalisa makes me feel like I’m supposed to be living on a farm.”
“Gotchya.”
“Anyways, that new girl does not like you. She basically complained to me about you the whole period until you got here, then she magically shut up. Thanks for that, by the way.”
I laugh, “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl? She barely says anything unless she’s in trouble. If we are, then I think we have a hypocrite on our hands. What’s your next class?”
“AP English, and you?”
“Great, so do I, let’s walk together, shall we?” An idea is beginning to spark.
~~~~~~~~~
Oi, sorry guys for positing this up late! I hope you guys like it though <3
I don't think the note thing would actually work btw. Only a couple of my teachers questioned my tardiness. One of my teachers didn't even care that I would come in late. (Mostly because she was usually later than I was lol)
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Typically Wrong
Teen FictionHow completely typical of people to assume. To judge. To think they know. Maybe it's time for people to hear my side of the story. The side you never even knew existed. For once, I'd like you to admit that you are wrong about me. Typically wrong.
