chapter 1

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Luke

Today is the day.

I begin to turn down the radio as I enter the school parking lot. My subconscious is telling me to park in my old spot near the football field, that's where I had to park during my senior year of school. But now, things are different. I'm not nervous, well who am I kidding? I couldn't be more nervous. Everything I have worked for the last few years is finally coming to fruition. This is my dream... sort of. This is my realistic dream that can pay the bills, for now. I look over at my passenger seat and see my briefcase. My grandmother gifted that briefcase to me when I began college. She always believed in me, and she would be proud of me for making it this far. I let out a shaky sigh, grab the briefcase and leave my car.

I take my time walking into the building. Everything looks exactly the same, except there are a few yellow flowers planted by the front door. Also, it appears that the building has been painted an even more boring shade of beige. Wonderful.

I take out my keycard to enter the front doors, and I suddenly flashback to the first time I walked through these doors as a student. I had just turned thirteen years old. I was such a young boy to be entering into high school. I was terrified because I was a year younger than all the other freshmen. I skipped a grade in elementary school because I was intelligent. My age never seemed to bother me until I began high school. However, it did give me the advantage of graduating early and starting college earlier than others. And here we are, a full ten years later. I'm standing here as a teacher just as scared as I was when I began my freshman year.

One would think that I would be overflowing with happiness at this opportunity to work at my old high school. The truth is, I hated attending Canyon View High School. The teachers were beyond boring and they had no compassion for any of their students. They would always assign way too much homework and never cared enough to teach the lesson material properly. I learned how to look past the teachers, but I couldn't look past the bullying. Yes, yes. I was one of the millions of teenagers bullied in high school. It wasn't the cliché Hollywood bullying where I'm shoved into lockers, beaten to a pulp in the middle of the hallway, or have my head forced into a toilet. It was emotional bullying. People hating me for how I looked, picking on my voice cracks when puberty screwed me over and then making fun of my growth spurt where I seemed to grow two feet overnight. I think I could have handled the physical abuse better because being picked on for things you cannot change wrecks your confidence and mental health. I am thankful that I did have a few good friends and a family that supported me during this dark period. They helped me see the light and gave me hope to move forward. Their support inspired me to become a teacher. I want to be an advocate for my students, unlike my past teachers. I want to give students hope and a good education.

I make my way through the empty halls in search of the teachers' workroom. It takes me a minute as the layout of the building has changed, but I finally found it. I head straight for the coffee maker as I forget my freshly brewed coffee at home. As I walk to the counter I pass three teachers, none of which I recognize. I try to politely say hello, but they only stare at me in return.

"He's a new teacher." I hear one of them loudly whisper. She is a younger lady, definitely not as young as me. She is messily eating a muffin that looks drier than her skin. Sorry, but I don't think she's ever heard of moisturizer.

"Oh my, he looks so young." The oldest woman exclaims in a not so quiet whisper. She's probably one of those teachers that think part of the requirements to teach is being over the age of 30. You know how the saying goes, the older the wiser.

"Well, I heard that Sally had him when he was in ninth grade." The third teacher says as she fixes the buttons on her shirt. "She said he was a real geek."

Mr. Hemmings |l.h.|Where stories live. Discover now