Were's the Love?

Chapter 16: Human Slugs and Viciously Murdering Tomatoes

"Thank you, Brandon. That was a very creative interpretation of Romeo's death. But next time, let's stick to what's written. I don't believe Shakespeare intended for Romeo to slobber all over Juliet before downing the vial of poison and crushing it on his head like some drunken fraternity brother at a college party." I sigh and shake my head as the hoots and laughter finally start to die down. "And Kristen, I suggest that the next time one of these boys decides to take advantage of the opportunity to kiss you, you find a more appropriate place to reciprocate. English class is neither the time nor place for a steamy session with someone else's boyfriend."

"Sorry, Miss Black," Kristen smiles, "but when else am I going to have the chance to make out with the hottest wolf in school?"

The class cheers again with several of the boys trading high-fives with Brandon.

Idiots.

Thank the gods Brandon's girlfriend isn't in this class with him. The last thing I need is to spend the last ten minutes of class breaking up a cat fight. And I do mean a literal cat fight. If my memory is correct, Kristen is a mountain lion and Carmen, Brandon's girlfriend, is an ocelot. We all know who would win that fight. His poor girlfriend wouldn't stand a chance.

"Alright, class, settle down," I say loud enough to be heard over the ruckus. "Since we still have twenty minutes of class left, I think now is the perfect time to go over the essay you'll be writing me on what we've just read."

And cue the groans.

These teenagers are predictable, as always. Mention homework and they never fail to groan in displeasure. For once, I'd love it if someone cheered when I gave them an assignment. Is that too much to ask?

Who am I kidding? They're teenagers. Unless my assignments include taking selfies or gossiping about how John and Kimberly are so over, I don't think I'll be getting those cheers.

I grab the stack of handouts on my desk listing the requirements for their paper while giving them a brief explanation of what I'm expecting. Judging by the looks on their faces, you'd think that I just told them that prom was cancelled. It's just an essay. Most of them will have it finished in a couple hours and, those who don't, will probably plagiarize something they found on the internet or write it based entirely on cliff notes. Then, when they get caught, they'll try to lie to me, blaming sports practice, warrior training, or, my favorite, ramble on with some ridiculous story they've come up with about some tragedy between them and their boyfriend or girlfriend.

If they spent half the time writing their essay that they spent coming up with their excuse as to why they didn't do it, they would have had a semi-acceptable paper to turn in.

Lazy little assholes.

I'm about to ask if anyone has any questions when I spot one of the ladies in my class staring at her cell phone. She's not even trying to hide the fact that she's on it. How inconsiderate is that? It's right there, out in the open for everyone to see.

"Grace?" I sigh and walk over to her desk, "Would you mind sharing with the class what exactly on your phone is so interesting that you have it out during my class?"

"No, Miss Black." She lowers the device, but her eyes are still glued to the screen.

"You know the rules," I shake my head, again. It's a shock that I don't have neck problems with how often I do that. "Hand it over."

"Just a minute," Grace holds up a finger. Really? "I'm almost done."

"Now, Miss Stevens. I'm sure that whatever it is you are doing can wait until my class is over."