Passion in the Drum Room

Chapter 1 - Mr, not Sir

Bell rang restored peace to the wild beings. It was nearing the end of the school day, every student tired and unwilling to work for the last few hours. Sat up from grading work, Benjamin Green emerged from his office to unlock the music room doors. He was excited this year. A new start, new students. It's been too long since someone saw the importance in music like he did. Ben smiled in his hope.

For a few minutes he sat in silence, waiting for students to flood in. Picking up a guitar, he ran his rough fingers along the string. Strumming the guitar, a melody began to play. Soft, but harsh, chimes echoed throughout the classroom. Too caught up in the music, Ben didn't take heed to the many students who entered.

The students laughed. Ben set down the guitar, clearing his throat of pride.

"Okay, well, it's nice to meet you all." He smiled, picking up his laptop. His excitement grew.

A student asked while keeping their giggles minor, "sir, what song were you playing?" Ben paused.

"It's not sir, it's Mr. Green to you." He let her off, he didn't want to seem too strict. But he didn't want them to make a fool out of him.

Ben sighed, another class full of students unwanting of a musical profession. All he wanted was a prodigy he could raise, someone that fulfilled his empty side. Music was company, but he was searching for something more. Ben did have a girlfriend—and she was as hot as the sun's roars—but even she didn't take part in his passion.

He fixed his posture, letting out a little moan. "Is Samantha here?"

"Here!"

"Is Tom here?"

"Here."

"Lucy?" Ben looked around the room. "Lucy?"

"Here."

"Paul?"

"Paul's not here si- Mr. Green." Ben sighed. He continued the roll until he got to the last couple of names.

"Okay is Mia here?"

"Here."

"Morrison?" He received no answer, so he asked again, "is Morrison here?' Ben started to become frustrated. "Has anyone seen Morrison?"

The class stayed quiet.

A student called out, "he's not here." Ben looked back at his laptop in confusion.

"Well he was here this morning," he said, itching his beard. Ben set down his laptop and hopped up from his warm cushion. "We don't have time for one per-"

A student knocked on the door, loud laughs following them from where they parted from. Ben, clearly bothered, opens the door. The student struts through, greeting the others he's familiar with.

"Excuse me?" he says, shutting the door. Ignored, he sighs. "You know you're 5 minutes late?"

"Yeah I was in the toilet, my bad sir," the student says.

Ben Green sits down, calming himself. "Okay. I want to make one thing very clear to all of you, I am the teacher. You will refer to me as Mr. Green. Not sir, not Ben, not mister." He picked up his laptop once again. Morrison whispered to another, complaining about Ben's strictness. "What's your name?"

"Morrison."

. . .

The bell ringing occurs again. Ben unlocks the door to the room with all the instruments. Letting the students pour in, he reminds them, "be careful. Last year we had a student break the strings on a very expensive guitar because they were messing around."

Morrison runs past him, "will do, sir." He smiles cheekily at Ben.

All the students set up in their stations. The keyboards, guitars, and drums are all in place. Morrison picks up one of the electric guitars, dusting it off as he moves. Ben is teaching the people on keyboards a catchy melody. New to their instruments, he encourages assistance. First day and he's already got problems with the students.

"It's tiring," he mutters.

Morrison entered one of the vacant drum rooms, Ben following.

"What are you doing?"

Morrison looks up at him. "Chill. I needed somewhere to play the guitar."

"It works perfectly out there." Ben looks down at him, observing him for longer than he should. Shouts echo from outside. "Be careful with it," he says, leaving the room to help other students. "What's the problem?" he asks. The students giggle.

"Nothing!" Ben's confusion becomes visible. He takes a step back, looking around the room. No one is taking music seriously. Just like last year, and the year before, and throughout most of his teaching career. Ben felt his muscles tensen, his eyes growing blurry.

He fled to his office, adjacent to both classrooms.

Blinded by ignorance, he wept and wept till the clock hit quarter to three. His pain wasn't coped by tears or tissues, the documents and goals thrown around the room. A mess.

Knock. Knock.

Ben looked over at the door, staring at an empty handed Morrison. Slowfully answering the door, the student asked, "you never came back, sir."

"Don't call me sir." He wiped his nose. "Go back to class." The door shut, but Morrison refused.

"But you didn't see what I practiced." A curious emotion spiked in Ben. Doubtful, but still curious. Ben followed behind Morrison, entering back into the ignorance. Ben shut the door behind him. The drum room was secluded, just him and Morrison left to explore. "Trust me sir—"

"Mr. Green."

"—you're gonna love this." The strings vibrated. A quick melody performed. Seconds went by and Ben's doubt no longer apparent on his face. Interrupted, Morrison groaned. "Ah. See it's this bit I can't do." Ben checked his watch. '2:49' he read.

"Hear." He sat behind him. "It's because you're putting your finger here." He picked up Morrison's fingers. Morrison looked into Ben's gaze. "They should be here," he instructed. Morrison played again. Ben smiled, "yeah, that's it." They kept a stare but the bell rang. Students ran out of the class as quickly as they could, some slower than others. Ben watched as they left. He turned his head but not body. "You did good."

"Thank you." He smiled at Ben. He jumped up, ready to go with an energetic buzz casted over him. He gestured for Ben to move.

"There's one problem..." Ben declared.

Morrison looked up at him. "Well—what?"

"Next time, call me Mr. Green. Respect is a two way street."

"Okay... Mr. Green. Can I go now?" Morrison gestured his way out again, the door still blocked by Ben's body. "What's wrong?" Morrison asked his teacher who stood still in his tracks, eyes gaping.

"Can you... say it again."

"Mr. Green?" Ben looked away. Morrison got closer to him, concerned.

"Mr. Green, is something wrong?" He got closer. Ben looked into his eyes again.

"Morrison, sit down." Morrison submitted, sitting down where Ben appointed him. Ben picked up the guitar, cradling it in his hands. Playing the instrumental of Pony, Ben's fingers growing acquainted with the strings for each beat. Morrison seemed struck, frozen and locked in place. "It's easy once you practice a lot," Ben said, smiling at his student.

"The song—it's..."

"It's what, hm?" Ben noticed a sweat drop from Morrison's face.

The moment blossomed and Morrison ran his hand through Ben's hair, who was right in his face, trying to keep distance. Stuttering his words Morrison said, "what are you doing?" He moved his hands down. Ben grabbed his hand and pushed it away. Ben smirked. Morrison pushed Ben down. "Don't touch me, Mr. Green." He kneeled over him, grabbing his face. "I don't know what you're trying to do to me." He sat up. "I only chose music because it's easy, and I only learnt that song because everyone else sucks at music. Don't tell me how to play because I don't need help, or want it," Morrison stated. He left the drum room, leaving Ben distraught on the class floor.