Substitute Real Teacher

We find Docken as an adult, doing part time Substitute work at a school, teaching english. We learn more about how he views his current surroundings.

“So what’cha do when you called her, sir?”, inquired a very intrigued girl from the middle of the class. I glanced out the window with a smirk on my face, my hands; behind me, perched on the desk like claws. “You know, I really think we should get some work done?...Okay,” I flicked up a wooden ruler and continued, “What did Mr.Hemmingway have to say about ‘the best people’?”. I closed my eyes and span the ruler in my palm, the tenths number of where my hand rested, told me the column of the chairs, and wherever my ring finger may reside within the tenths, told me the the row. Sitting in 4.3cm was Jess Gom. “Well Jess,” her eyes were attracted the floor like magnets instantly.  I boasted out in wacky old english men accent, whilst punching the air with an open hand and angled the stick at Jess, “It appears the measurement of fate has been ruled at your co-ordinates…”. The kids were always amused when I did things like that. After realizing no one had even the sparse wave of knowledge, I collapsed my body, “How do you not know this…”. Jake blurted out through his hand covered mouth “Well...Our teachers never really felt like teaching.” The class chuckled, and I did too. I stood up poised, “Okay then!”. I pressed a key on the laptop and Hemingway's quote appeared on the projector. As I slickly shuffled to the front of the class I continued, “Hemingway said, that the best people have a feeling for beauty, that they have enough courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth and the capacity for sacrifice.” I changed the some lines of quote so they could understand it better but I decided to leave those last two lines unaltered, I think they need to be listened to, not just heard. “Ironically he thought, these great, amazing things about these people, make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.” I could see these kids light up and sit up, they were speechless for a second just thinking and taking it in. I felt accomplished, I felt like I reached these kids and taught them something about life, like I achieved edification. “He seems like a f*g!” Kyle shouted. It was then I realised these were a different generation, they wouldn’t...couldn’t appreciate these words, but you know what? Only a few chuckles. I scanned the speechless looks engraved in the adolescent faces and I had hope for them yet. Resting my butt on the desk, I proposed to the class to aim for half a page on how this made them felt, and then sat at the chair.

The room was sizeable, covered in posters that I guess was supposed to be stimuli for children. But they were so redundant, all brimming with pointless facts or shabby quotes. The books, oh the books...only one set actually got the chance to stretch out. The rest breathed in the same recycled air of neglect. The desk wanted to grow, I know it did; even I couldn’t stand being that small. The walls; white: perfect for school pen doodles apparently. The only colour in the room emanated from the students and the projector. The wipe boards, oh they’re just remarkable, pun intended. Not only does no pen work, most of it is immortally coloured in permanent marker, making usage: aimless. I couldn’t see myself staying here for more than one term. I’ve worked out that when I finish said term, I will be able to start my trip. I tell you about this another time.

Most of the class had given up on the task after a very diligent 5 or so words. The uproar of chatter I have come to expect, was present, and I wondered if real teachers just let their students do this. If they just don’t care anymore, if they think their job description is make sure no one kills each other, drink coffee and leave. I decided I wasn’t going to be like that anymore, that I will be Substitute Real Teacher: drink coffee, teach and then leave. But alas the bell informed the students that the playgrounds were lonely and so they left. I packed my belongings up and headed for the staff room.

The staff room didn’t have an atmosphere as such, it just kind of existed. Rupert and Marg were the only life in the room, ironically being the oldest, I’m not sure they actually teach, they always seem to be in their habitat, but they do mark and plan a lot, so I haven’t decided yet. There was a table in the middle no one used, everyone kind of went into their own area. There was one room inside the zoo, it belonged to Mrs.Stringler, I have yet to see her face. More pointless posters were thrown up on the walls, however in Rupert and Marg’s area, or as I like to say: “Marpert’s”, they had posters of films like ‘The Great Escape’ or ‘Fight Club’. The room constantly had an essence of coffee, no matter how long you stayed in there and a never ending supply of biscuits too. Marg couldn’t stop laughing, praying it would stop by covering her mouth with her hands. I came and sat with them accompanied by 3 fresh cups of coffee. “..and so the police officer told me to slow down. I looked him right in the eye, and said ‘Gee officer, you’re starting to sound like my doctor’”. Again Marg prayed for her muzzle. Rupert looked up at me, and the coffee and shuffled his chair around so I could fit in easier .“Ahh, Docken nice to see you, how was your lesson?” Rupert asked whilst drying his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile, “It was good, really good, I-”, Rupert took one look at what he had done to Marg and uncontrollably snickered. Marg started again, and now I was at it too. For 5 minutes or so, we drank coffee and laughed at nothing. I really do love Marpert, their like those cool, laid back kids, who have been so close for so long, and then they let you invite yourself in, and you feel like you belong. Like Sam and Patrick, and I was Charlie. I was going to ask if Marpert really cared anymore, but decided to leave it for another day. One of the benefits of being a sub, is that you don’t have to stay in all day. So I headed home. I didn’t have a car, never wanted one, I got my license as soon as I could, even started studying for the theory a year in advance. Studying was straightforward for me, because knowledge liked to stick itself to me, or maybe I ask really politely. So anyway, I always preferred walking, biking or even skating when I was a kid. I guess I like being independent, that and I can never give up on something; I’m too stubborn, or maybe my father imprinted the “Everything you want is on the opposite side of fear and doubt.” quote he always used too hard. It’s his birthday soon, maybe I’ll visit him.

My apartment wasn’t much, it didn’t need to be. I didn’t intended on staying for long, because my dreams couldn't fit in this town. I’m currently staying in New Zealand, well I haven’t technically ever left, but I have every intention on doing so. My windows overlooked Cracknore lake, it trickled for miles. The water so fresh you could wash in it, Cracknore whispered through a forest,  it was a majestic flowing soup, the water; so warm yet so tretouis, the current was a heartless b***h. She would reel you in, regardless of age or morals and suddenly, sharply and sickenly she would yank you in, pull you down with promises of being let go, only to break every one she has ever made, 4 people have been murdered in the last 5 years.

Dimie, my cat, eats with me. In the mornings we sit up at the breakfast bar, as I devour my cereal, she nibbles at hers. I scratch her head when we’re both finished, leave her lunch, and leave myself. I called her Dimie, on a count of the fact, she isn’t that bright and because one of my favourite films is Donnie Darko. So Dim, and Donnie make Dimie. I had a sofa and TV, although I didn’t use it a whole lot, I mostly watched my favourite TV shows and thats it. The kitchen was to the left of the door, and was big enough to consist of everything one might need, but small enough that it hardly took up any room. The apartment contained a lot of equipment like tents and waterproof jackets, I camp out and go exploring for weeks at a time, I have to find most of my own food, but other than that, it’s pretty relaxing. I could also open a library with all the books in my place. A library that contained only the finest books carefully selected by ‘moi’. I just have a thing for books, I always take one to read when I go off in search for freedom. I get involved in the story, mostly I like to pick a character, and pretend the story revolves around me, and sometimes act out tiny bits of the story for a second.

I already ate and was about to brush my teeth and go to bed, however I liked to procrastination before this though, maybe I did it to make myself a bit more tired, but I would play guitar, or make notes about what I thought about things. For instance, I started writing about personalities, why do we have them. If we never had them, we would never have wanted them or missed them. Did we develop them when we evolved, but if so for what purpose, and do animals have personalities. Then I really dug down into it, like if they’re fair or not, because some people are so nervous to talk to people and it seems like it would cripple their chances in life. Eventually after a lot of thinking, I arrived at a conclusion: personalities are only fair, if fate exists or if everything happening for a reason is true. I have a book I write these things in since my teenage years, maybe I'll write more about this later. Then finally, suddenly, but expectedly - Sleep.