Samantha's POV.
*Beep Beep Beep*
I groan, rolling over, slapping my alarm clock.
Today, I, Samantha Foster, am going to start my first year as an English teacher.
Its been my dream job ever since I was nine years old. After meeting the best teacher I had ever met. She inspired me so much, I strived to be a teacher ever since.
Honestly, I've never been so nervous. Like, what will happen if my students don't like me? Or if I cannot be as great as a teacher as my previous inspiring mentor of a teacher?
As I brushed out my hair, I glanced around my closet pondering what to wear. Settling on a loose black button up and a pair of grey slacks. Grabbing my signature black converse.
I may be a teacher, but a small part of me still strives to dress as the rebellious teen I once was.
Applying makeup to my slightly tanned face, I grabbed my keys off the counter, and my bag from the table, and headed out to my car.
Hoping into my beat up old Nissan, I headed towards Chesterville high school.
Walking down the hallways, I made my way towards the English hall. Waltzing into my classroom, I looked around at the walls. Quite disappointed at the fact that the walls are almost all white.
I glanced at the clock, realizing that my first class was due to start in about ten minutes.
"Ahhhh, you must be the new English teacher," I heard a voice say from behind me. Turning around, I saw a middle aged woman. She had short curly black hair, and was dressed with a green blouse, matched with a black skirt. "My names Glenda, but the folks around here call me Mrs.G," she said, settling herself onto one of the desks.
"My names Samantha," I said, offering my hand,"but the folks around here will soon learn to call me Ms.Foster."
Laughing she stood and headed towards the door. "Well, I just wanted to swing by and wish you luck on your first day."
"Thanks," I said, watching her retreating figure walk out of the room.
I spent the few minutes I had left organizing my things onto my desk, and pulling out the papers for the lesson I had planned for today. Today we are going to be writing a paper about ourselves and our hobbies.
The bell rung, signalling the students that it was time to make their ways to their first class. The feeling of nervousness returning as I anxiously waited at the door to greet my students.
"Good morning class, I am Ms.Foster, and I am your English teacher, today we will be writing a paper about ourselves and our hobbies. So that I may have a chance to get to know each and every one of you. Once you are finished you will place your papers in your folders over there up on the rack." I say handing the papers out, and settling myself at my desk.
The classes fly by rather quickly for it being my first day. Soon enough I find myself in fourth period.
I greet my students and wait until they are all seated. "Alexis Lopez?" I called out, starting the attendance. "Jake Gomez?.....Michael Ortiz?.....Dylan McBride?" Looking up, I saw a girl sitting alone in the back, with her hand slightly raised.
"Dyke!" Someone muttered.
"Excuse me?" I said, looking back at the student.
She was dressed in a cheerleaders uniform. She looked up at me and shrugged.
"First warning, young lady, we do not use that kind of derogatory language in this classroom, do you understand me?" I said, stepping away from her, walking back to my desk.
Looking back over towards the corner, the girl was stating at me, and gave me a small smile.
I kind of just stood there, and looked at her. Something about her smile was just so alluring to me.
No, stop it me. Students are not allowed. Nope. Not going to happen. She is a student. That is all. I shook my head, and looked down to my laptop.
The last few classes pass by fairly quickly. After school, I sit at my desk and read through the letters I had my students write today.
They've all been slightly interesting to say the least. None really caught my eye, that is until I got to fourth period. I picked up the last paper in the folder, and read the name. 'Dylan McBride,' it read.
'My name is Dylan McBride. I honestly don't know what my hobbies are. One thing for sure that I enjoy doing, is writing. Its like an escape I have. An escape from all the shit I have to deal with. You know? Like instead of chewing what's her faces face off for calling me a dyke, I could just write out a story where I chop off her head, or she gets eaten by wolves. Or some shit like that. And no, I'm not some sociopath planning the death of all those who have crossed me or whatever. In all honesty, I'm only writing this because I know you won't read it. You'll probably just grade it by how long it looks. But anyways, yeah.'
Putting down the paper, I took out a pen, leaving her a note. 'Don't worry, I didn't think you were a sociopath. And I did actually read your paper. And I find it quite respectable that you result to writing instead of violence.'
Putting the papers back into their folders after I was finished, and headed home.
While driving in my car, I couldn't help but think about my day. And to think about Dylan. She reminded me an awful lot of me back in the day. I couldn't help but feel this odd attraction towards her. I couldn't help but feel the need to learn more about her.
