Daisy-dotted Doc Martens

Chapter Two

Jay’s POV

My first weekend in my new apartment had passed relatively uneventfully. By the time I had unpacked all my stuff, it was already Sunday afternoon. Since work would start the next day, I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon preparing for my first day. The prospect of teaching a bunch of high school kids was daunting – I has been in their place not too long ago myself. I’d had loads of practise teaching at schools on attachments as a trainee teacher, but now that it was my actual career, I was feeling more than a little nervous.

I had originally planned to further my studies after teaching school, but Newbridge High School happened to be desperately in need of a Math teacher, so I had taken the job. I would be filling in as a homeroom teacher for the pregnant Mrs Hollis, and teaching Mathematics to juniors. Yep, I would be changing those kids’ lives – one equation at a time.

Lesson planning brought back memories of my own high school life. I had been a pretty typical student. I was one of the normal kids who were neither jocks and cheerleaders, nor nerds and social outcasts. I’d had my fair share of popularity and fun as a member of the students’ council.

The only vaguely depressing thing about high school was my relationships experience. Or rather, the lack thereof. I’d only had one boyfriend, ever, in my freshman year. He had promptly ditched me as soon as he met a blonde cheerleader, which ironically, I myself had introduced him to. Of course, being a stubborn teenager, I had been heartbroken, but now reflecting upon it, I had been overreacting. We were nothing special together, and after a while it just didn’t matter very much anymore. He was a jerk, and from then on I stayed away from jerks. We’d never spoken after that, and I’d rarely seen him around. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever see him again, as long as I live. Well, that was a finished chapter in my life.

Tomorrow would be a new beginning – I hoped.

**

As the first bell rang, I squeezed through the crowds of students to get to my classroom. Kids turned to look at me curiously as I balanced a ball and a binder in one hand, and carried a large plastic bag in the other. When I finally made it to the classroom, the second bell had gone off and most of the students were already in their seats.

Taking a deep breath, I walked in, hoping to seem confidently and less scared than I actually was. Tottling over to the table nervously, I set down my things and flipped my binder open, careful not to make eye contact with any of the students. The students chattered on, seemingly not noticing my presence.

Looking up, I surveyed the group before me, allowing myself to develop first impressions of the students. There were a group of preppy girls sitting around the middle of the class, giggling and talking to each other. The back row was mainly occupied by boys, who shouted at each other loudly and threw around a basketball. The sides and front consisted of students who were either chatting quietly with their friends, or engrossed in a book. Looked like a typical high school class to me.

Clearing my throat, I decided to start. “Class.” I called.

The class ignored me. My voice was probably drowned out by all the noise.

Mustering up more courage, I raised my voice. “Class!”

The chattering died down abruptly as the students all turned to look at me. I could feel some of the girls in the centre judging me already. And the stares of the boys at the back were not exactly easy to ignore.

Biting my lip, I looked at the teacher’s chair, then at the desk, and back again, and made a split second decision. Ignoring the fact that this probably wasn’t recommended behaviour for teachers, I hoisted myself up onto the teacher’s desk and set my binder on my lap, pen in hand. Smiling back up at the students, I introduced myself.