Only a few things can bother me as much as a person who thinks they are so much better than everybody else. The people who think they are right every time, just because they have a doctorate in their field. Those smart-ass ladies, just strutting through the hallways all day, books and binders in their hands, as if they were lawyers preparing for an important hearing. But guess what they are: high school teachers, the biggest pain in the ass a teenager could imagine...or a regular, simple PE teacher.
The biggest joy in my life is that these nerds have a separate floor for them with their own rooms where they can gather, distributed by specialties, and we PEs, we have a room for us on floor 2 at the back of the building. It is close to the hall, the changing rooms, and the janitor closets—everything is so handy, I don't have to leave this area.
Unless... There is one exception, a form of torture, a curse from the school director, which hasn't included the sports department until a year ago, but based on "inclusivity" and "equality," we too have to stand guard at the entrance during brakes, taking shifts, so these underage inmates don't flee the institution. Like, I wouldn't do so if I could...or needed the money.
My favorite days are the ones where I am scheduled on duty with the STEM teachers; they are pretty cool, still nerdy, but at least they aren't laughing around or lecturing me or oversharing about their subjects, just doing some last-minute correcting, grading, or staring into the void. Okay, that is mostly just Mr. Petterson; he teaches A-level physics, a pretty chill dude, but he is above 70. But there is a general lack of human resources when it comes to education, okay?
This Monday wasn't any different; I looked at the schedule that morning to see that I had only one shift, but that couldn't resemble a nightmare more, even if it tried to.
It was with Ms. Lindemann; she teaches German and some other language, probably, I never bothered to find out anything about her, just of her German descent I was sure. She was born and raised in Germany; her family moved here during her teenage years. By looks she is pretty okay, maybe even more than okay: tall with a slim figure, blonde, pretty eyes, but never a smile. She only cares about her profession and the kids. She cares a lot; she really does. She teaches extracurriculars for free, stays overtime to reexplain the material, but what about her colleagues? She doesn't give one single flying fuck. She doesn't talk, she doesn't share anything, we don't even know if she is married or what. We know that she is German, good at her job, and lives somewhere in the outskirts of the city. Not a single crumb more.
So one could easily ask, why I consider her the worst company to spend 10 minutes with, well, here's why: she is really meticulous about precision and timing, when I don't show up on time, she has the nerve to walk all the way to the PE room and knock on the door. She has the permissions printed and follows the rules, asking for IDs before anyone leaves, while I couldn't care less. I just want to get this over with as soon as possible every time.
Just to avoid a tantrum and being cursed at in German, I grabbed the schedules and took my stand a bit earlier, as I had the previous period free. And there she was, messy hair, glasses, striking, almost questioning stare, like I could feel the questions floating in my direction. She dressed casually, not in the usual, lame, teacher style, always some jeans and a matching shirt.
Not like I am the one to talk; I always wore a trainer, an old shirt from my team where I used to be signed during my golden years, sometimes the school's own shirt with the logo on it, and sports shoes. Let's just say no one in our department tries to be the self-proclaimed fashionista of the school.
"What a surprise, Thomson, arriving EARLY, on a MONDAY morning with the papers printed? Is it a special day today that I don't know of?" - The sarcastic tone of this woman itself makes my skin crawl.
