September, 2016, 10 months ago.
The murmur of hushed whispers of secondary school children are quite exciting. They all look interested and curious to who their new teacher is. The classroom is fairly large, with the usual posters about quadratic equation and times tables scattered about in no particular pattern on the walls.
The walls are painted orange, most maths classrooms are. I stand before them all, feeling ready to take on the world, knowing I have power of all twenty eight of these children. The headmaster, Mr. Smith beside me clears his throat and the class dies down immediately.
"Good morning, class." He gestures to me importantly. "This is your new maths teacher Mr. Danvers. Show him respect and he'll do the same to you. I wouldn't expect you to treat him any differently because he's new." He steps backwards, giving me my entrance.
I clear my throat awkwardly, and they all focus their beady eyes on me. "Good morning Year 11. My name is Mr. Danvers and I'm very happy to be teaching you this year. With you leaving school this year you are my top priority class and I expect 100% effort from all of you. Is that fair?" I offer.
"Yes, sir." They all chorus and I smile at them. "Brilliant." I take a seat behind my desk, staring at the weird tablet/computer I have to use every day from now on. They were nowhere near this sosphisticated and hard to understand back in university.
I sigh. Mr. Smith has left the room so I'm left with the only alternative: asking one of the children. "How do you get the register up on this thing?" I huff, tapping the screen insistently. A few of them laugh nervously, but one boy braves it to jump up and make his way over to me.
"Watch, sir." He leans over me, clicking a few buttons until a beeping noise starts up. "Now you sign in." He points at the ID display I have next to me. I unfold the paper and type in my username and password and then the screen splits and reveals the register.
"See." He gestures magestically. Some of the kids laugh again and I blush with embarrassment. "Some teacher." One mutters under her breath so I shoot her a harsh look and she averts her eyes instantly. "You press the slash button if the pupil is in and an A if they're not." He holds up his hands.
"Just like that." He rolls his eyes at me. He goes to leave but I call after him. "You."
He turns around to face me. "Sir?" He smirks cheekily, expecting an argument or a harsh word. "Thank you." I reply and he looks surprised and smirks again. "Amateurs." He scoffs and the kids laugh with him.
He's clearly the class clown. "What's your name?" I order and he sits back in his seat, feet up on the desk. "Edwards." He states, giving his last name. "Fine. Feet off the desk." I gesture to them and he looks at them. "What? These feet?" He jokes and a few of the kids snigger.
I almost facepalm. This first day is not going well. "Yes." I mutter, pointing again. "Those feet."
He ignores me that time and opens up his bag, retrieving his headphones. He's a small kid, he doesn't look sixteen, though he clearly thinks he's a hard man.
He plugs in his headphones and heavy metal music starts booming loudly across the classroom due to the volume level. He closes his eyes in mock bliss, blocking out me and everyone else. So much for respect.
"Right. Every else get out your textbooks. We're starting trigonometry." Thankfully, the rest of the students obey and pull out their books, writing the date without me having to ask them. "Okay, guys, let's start with the hypotenuse."
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By my first lunchbreak, I stare with disgust at the distorted looking thing on the plate in front of me. Canteen cooking has always looked shit. I can't even imagine what is tastes like. "Excuse me?" I beckon one of the dinner ladies over. "What is this meant to be?" I demand and she wrinkles her nose at me.
"Cheese and tomato." She replies, gesturing to the overflowing mess in the lumpy baguette. I scoff at her. No wonder the teachers bring their own lunch. It's a mistake I will never make again. I push it away in disgust.
I can't wait to get to my next class. Let's hope they're a decent bunch of kids. I pull out my ready rumpled schedule. At 13:00, I'm teaching year 7. Great. A bunch of rowdy, screeching first years. Damn.
And there I was hoping for a decent class. Are any of my classes going to be a pleasure to teach? I slope back to my classroom and manage to get the register up without help this time. Thank God.
There's a knock at the door and the Edwards boy flashes his face in the window. I sigh. What does he want? I walk over and pull open the door. He stands there with that same attitude on his face. "What?" I demand. He smirks, waltzing in past me without invitation and lazily taking a seat at one of the tables.
"I was wondering if you'd tell me what I missed in the lesson." He tilts his head to the side, gauging my reaction. "If you took out your headphones and paid attention then you'd know." I snark, dumping myself onto my chair and swivelling around so my back is to him.
"Ooh, attitude. You sound like my mam." He laughs. "She's a right loudmouth, my mam. You wouldn't want to cross her on a bad day. She's a living nightmare." He informs, smirking. "She's like...this wide." He holds out his arms as far as they'll go. "She's well fat." He lets out a whistle.
"I don't want to hear abour your mother, Edwards." I open up one of my cupboards and throw a few sheets at him. "Do those questions. If you're stuck on anything, ask one of your classmates." I gesture for him to leave. "Shouldn't you be helping me?" He looks outraged as I usher him to the door.
I shrug at him. "That's what you get for ignoring me and showing no respect." I slam the door in his face.