Harmonise

Sighing, I look at the timetable for my classes, wondering what I’m going to have to plan for the class I have last block. Fridays are always hectic, no matter what the week. Speaking of which, what week are we on right now? I never remember.

Oh yeah, it’s a B week. On A weeks, I have Year Nine class last; that’s never fun. There isn’t a way to unwind after spending time with pre-pubescent kids who only take interest in hitting the booty, not the drums. Year Nine has to be the worst class I teach, and I’m sure the head teacher gave me the Year Nine class as a punishment of some sorts. He despises me, but he can’t deny that I get my job done.

Glancing at the spreadsheet on the side of the office desk, I see the yellow box highlighted. Yellow. My body turns away from the timetable, spinning in the chair as I try to think of who the yellow box represents. Year Thirteen A-Level is orange, and Year Thirteen BTEC is Red. Year Twelve A-Level is pink, so…

It must be the Year Twelve BTEC lot.

Smiling to myself, I decide to pull the tin of sweets out from under my desk. They’re all extremely talented, there’s no denying that. What I have noticed with them is that they require bribes and prizes to work to their full potential. So, every couple of weeks after a project has been completed, we bring in tins of sweets for them to praise them for their effort.

I promised them sweets for their current project: love songs. The songs are simple, ranging from Taylor Swift to Queen to Adele to Elton John. They got themselves into groups, mostly based on friendship. It’s wrong and I hate to admit it, but some groups are considerably better than others. Eighteen students, two bands, three duets and five solo artists with backing tracks.

And the best part of all of this is that it isn’t just me teaching today. For the last lesson of the school half term, just before Valentine’s’ Day strikes, both of the classes teachers will be there: myself and Mr Tyler Munson.

Oh, Tyler. It’s undeniable that I’ve had a crush on him ever since I trained at the school, back three years ago. When he called me up, asking if I wanted a job interview here, I was over the moon. There wasn’t any other way to describe my feelings as elated. I smiled for the rest of the week.

The job interview came and I passed with soaring colours. Remembering the look on Tyler’s face when I answered each question filled my head with the idea that he liked me – more than in a colleague way. But, of course, miracles don’t happen to people like me. The biggest miracle in my life was getting this job, and I don’t see anything more miraculous happening to me.

“Mr Jaeger?”

Swinging around in my chair, I face the kid waiting by the office door. With hair the colour of a golden retriever and muscles the size of watermelons, I instantly recognise Liam, one of the drummers from the jazz band that takes place on a Friday lunchtime.

In his hand, he holds the ring containing the lime green plastic, labelled with the room the band must’ve been using this lunchtime. One thing that I’ll never get used to is the colour coding that Tyler enforced when I first got here. What the hell is the lime green key for? It isn’t for any hut. It may be the studio…

He places it in my hand, smiles and turns on his heel. Liam’s never really been a talker; he’d rather listen to you speak and he only interjects when he feels like it’s relevant. He drums for most of our clubs, yet still doesn’t talk to most people in the department. Odd, in my opinion.

Before I can even turn back to the computer, displaying the presentation of one of the older GCSE students, I hear the bell of the school begin to ring. Great. Once again, I’ve wasted an entire lunchtime on my computer and haven’t even eaten. Right next to me sits pizza left over from last night, and I’ve eaten half of a slice. Normally, I’d clear the food before you could tell me the toppings.