This is something i decided to write today. this was based on my actual art class in school. oh and this didn't really happen
Please feel free to review or comment.
The grass was wet from the perpetual snow and the flowers had just begun to poke through the tender earth. It was a Friday afternoon and each class in school that day was run of the mill. It was pointless the way each teacher clung onto us, trying to cram in the last few lessons. They were simply pathetic. Everyone knew it was spring break next week. How could those teachers possibly teach over a thousand kids with spring fever? Again, pointless.
My last class was art so I was thrilled when the bell rang for drawing. Finally, an entertaining class, I thought. I was the only freshman among the seniors in the classroom. I was the baby. We all got along, but I was still quiet the majority of the time.
Ms. Zadia was the most entertaining teacher I had ever met in my whole school career. She made no sense. Hence, we didn’t need to listen to her. Ms. Zadia never yelled. She just wanted us to draw in our sketchbooks and leave her alone.
I knew that all the seniors were trying to keep on their teachers good sides, in mightier fear they would be held for detention. That they would be kept even longer from their friends, the movies, and the lake.
So we sat, fidgeting in our seats. It looked like we were a class that had drunk three Red Bulls per student and the sugar was finally kicking in. I looked up at the clock. My foot was tapping violently on the metal footrest. The kid next to me began tapping his feet as well. We were like little alarm clocks setting off as the tapping feet syndrome spread through the entire class. It was like a tap dance session with crazed Red Bull kids.
Knowing that energized teens were never a good sign, Ms. Zadia turned on the radio to stimulate our minds into drawing. High School Musical songs were playing.
“Gay,” someone coughed from the backside of the room. My peers giggled hysterically. We were drunk. Drunk on spring fever.
To students each teacher was an individual ground hog. And every single ground hog looking at their students was like looking at their own shadow. They would crawl back in their hole of a classroom, afraid to face their spring fever teens and teach us a useless assortment of lessons.
“Do you all need to take a bathroom break?” Ms. Zadia asked. I looked up, breaking away from my thoughts.
“A spring break will do,” the guy next to me said. His name was Nick. He was a natural charmer.
Ms. Zadia was frowning and went back to her computer. She was typing furiously. But its art, I thought, wouldn’t she be sketching?
So I got up and went over to her desk. I didn’t know what was happening. It was like puberty. I couldn’t control it.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Ms. Zadia looked like a deer in the headlights.
“Go sit down Ms. Sarah,” She commanded. Before I turned around to sit another student came up to her desk.
“I’ve got to go the bathroom,” she said. This was Daniela. She was the attractive girl that the boys fell head over heels for. I guess I didn’t see it.
“Of course go ahead,” Ms. Zadia said. Daniela left. I knew she was ditching class. And I knew that Ms. Zadia knew. Daniela was her granddaughter.
“That’s not fair Ms. Zadia,” someone said from the back. It was the attractive guy all the girls fell head over heels for. I totally agreed with those girls.
There was a gasp of horror from the class.
“What do you mean?” Ms. Zadia said, stupidly.
“You’re letting your own granddaughter ditch. That’s not fair to the rest of us,” I said, chiming in. There was another gasp of horror from the class. But shortly after the whole class was a sea and we were the annoying seagulls pecking at Ms. Zadia with our questions.
It was then that she yelled for the first time and scared us white. We all rushed to our sets and were deathly silent.
“You’re all being silly. Now do your work,” She shouted at us.
Somehow telepathically we all knew this wasn’t the end of it. Especially when Daniela didn’t come back from the bathroom which students were only allowed to use for five minutes. Although it bugged us that Daniela didn’t come back, we didn’t dare make a sound.
This is stupid, I thought. I looked up at the clock. We had an hour and twenty minutes left of class. The class where you didn’t do anything but draw. It wasn’t as exciting anymore.
“Ms. Zadia,” I said, my hand raised. “Can we do something fun?”
“You’re drawing aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That looks like fun,” she said. I became aware that I hadn’t seen what she was doing on the computer. Attendance, I thought. No she’s been doing it non-stop all class.
I got up again. I felt a million eyes staring at the back of my head.
“Ms. Zadia can I take the class on a field trip to see Mr. Poke’s lizard?” I said. This was a lie of course.
“No, sit back down Ms. Sarah,” I stole a glance at her computer screen. It was an email. I had only caught a glimpse but I put the pieces together. She was talking with her friend about us. Telling her how obnoxious we were. And I thought for certain she had typed my name down first.
So as I sat in my chair, I began spinning. It made a funny noise like a marble rolling down wooden stairs. Only it was in rhythm. Boom…boom boom….boom.
There were laughs and the sound of marbles falling down wooden stairs became drastically louder. I caught the eye of my best friend and smiled. We both had the same idea. It was obvious.
“Class, don’t do anything, I’m going to the cafeteria for a moment to get the stuff.” Ms. Zadia said. I had no idea what she meant by stuff. Maybe we were sculpting next class. We all answered with a yes and waited for her departure patiently. I looked down the long wide hall to make sure she closed the door behind her.
“Come on,” I said. We all rolled our spinning chairs into the hallway. We lined them up nice and neat. Behind each person was another. They would push them down the hallway while the person sitting would spin themselves. There was no point in it, it just made it more fun for the person being pushed.
“Ready. Set. Go,” I said, pushing my friend down the hall. We did this futile race many times before we were caught.
“What are you doing?” Ms. Zadia shouted. We quickly rolled our partners back inside the classroom.
“What were you thinking?” she said. She was on a verge of a lecture. I was standing in the doorway trying to put the wedge in the door.
“Ms. Sarah, go sit down!” I hurried over to my chair. As I stuck my butt out to show her that I was sitting I missed the chair by inches and fell to the floor. The class was in an uproar of laughter. Ms. Zadia even laughed. My cheeks turned a bright red and my ears felt warm. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t wait any longer so I stood up frantically.
“Ms. Zadia, you’re not being fair! We want to go home and have some real fun,” that particular word, fun, was enough to send her through the roof. I had implied to her that her class wasn’t fun somehow. That sentence was the proverbial straw for the ill-fated camel, and so everything went downhill from there. After all the strange array of things we had done in her class this was her pet peeve. To her the bottom line was that her class was a damn fun one. How dare a student declare otherwise?
“Ms. Sarah. You are just going to have to wait then. You have detention,”
“This is unjust,” My friend said standing up. Kudos to her for sticking up for me. I would praise her later I decided. Ms. Zadia turned to look at her, her eye twitching. She was getting ready to blow. I snorted through my nose, trying to hide my laughter.
“Ms. Carmen, sit down or you will join your friend in detention,”
“But Ms. Zadia she wasn’t here yesterday. She doesn’t know,” I looked back at my friend.
“Know what?” I asked. Of course the one time I’m sick I miss a very crucial lesson in art class. The one time she has a lesson.
“I forgot to tell you, but today Ms. Zadia was going to let us have a party at the last thirty minutes of class,” my friend said. I looked up at the clock. Thirty minutes left of school. “I suggested that we have ice cream since it’s your favorite.”
And as if on cue the janitor came in followed by Daniela. They were holding two gallons of ice cream tubs in each hand. My mouth was agape in astonishment. I hadn’t missed a lesson, I had missed the actual fun.
“But…but, but,” I stuttered. The class laughed and stood up making a line. So I sat in my seat watching them get up in a line for their party. I felt like a jerk. I was a jerk. I decided to apologize to Ms. Zadia, but before I could get up a hand was placed gently on my shoulder. It was Ms. Zadia.
“Ms. Zadia I’m sorry,” I said. She smiled, shaking her head slowly. She was rubbing her forehead with her forefinger and thumb.
“Ms. Sarah, today you will be classified as the bright one in the slow group - I’ll let you skip detention. Why don’t you get some ice cream and join your friends,” she said. I looked up at her. Except for the fact that I was the bright one in the slow group, I was ecstatic.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
So the class sat in the dark room watching a movie, eating their ice cream sundaes and talking amongst their selves. Amid them, I watched the movie as well. And as I took multiple bites of my ice cream, I imagined my head hitting the wood desk repeatedly.
