The world of adults is mysterious and foreign to children. Adults are scary and powerful and confident. They hold all the control over a child's life. The worlds of children and adults are separate. That's why a child and an adult can never, ever be together...
She sat down quietly, taking care to make no noise. Getting excess attention from making a lot of noise would be mortifying for her. She was especially sure to be quiet today. New teachers were an unusual event in January, although it did happen sometimes. Especially when teachers like Mrs. Tulaney got pregnant. She felt uncomfortable with the new arrangement, however, after being in the classroom for a few minutes. She was sure now that the young, decidedly dark-looking man at Mrs. Tulaney's desk was the long-term substitute. She frowned a little. She didn't like male teachers, or teachers at all, really. They seemed so inhuman and emotionless.
The man at the desk grimaced a bit. It was his first day on this new job and he had to collect a major assignment from the students. Their previous teacher obviously had not been very responsible. She'd left a lot of free space in the schedule along with scattered due dates and unclear notes. Just one more email to send later, he supposed. He got up to introduce himself, trying his best not to let his irritation show through. The previous teacher clearly should have collected this assignment before she left. He had no idea what the students had written their essays on, and the untyped, scrawled notes on his sub pages had been little help. Walking around the room to grab the essays, he was struck by the formatting on one from a quiet girl from the back. The strict MLA formatting was militaristic compared to the sloppy pages handed in by the other students. There clearly hadn't been formatting guidelines, which many students had taken full advantage of. But hers was written with the same care as a college student's.
She cringed a little when he paused at her desk, looking at her essay critically. She fidgeted. While she had confidence in her writing, she didn't like that this teacher had looked at hers specially. He should just collect them and move on, she thought. It made her nervous that he might be looking at her, judging her and criticizing her. He was definitely not going to be a good teacher. He was way too intimidating.
~
Again! Her head touched the desk. This was getting ridiculous. Every day for the last three weeks he had greeted her when she entered the classroom, and every day she had completely ignored him. She didn't have an attitude, she was just far too nervous to respond. He was scary, everything scary she found in teachers. He didn't laugh much, didn't share anything about his personal life, and didn't form relationships with students. That did nothing to decrease his popularity, though. Girls still fawned over him and crushed on him, and the guys respected his dark masculinity. It was his serious demeanor that disarmed her. She felt uncomfortable responding to his stern, "Good morning," and ended up not making eye contact and rushing to her seat. She always made sure to talk to a few people, too, so she wouldn't accidentally make eye contact with him before the bell rang, beginning the class period.
5th period usually started off poorly. The one girl, Kate, would always completely blow him off. At first, he had attributed it to her being unused to seeing him in the classroom. It had been three weeks now, nearly a month, and her nervous aloofness to him was starting to bother him. Class passed in a similar manner, with her using her long, dark hair to hide. Even when he wrote notes on the board she looked down at her binder and ignored him. Her shyness was limited just to him, though, as she often chatted with two or three girls in the same class. He had reached his limit.
~
Her head jerked up. The bell? Ringing already? She rushed to leave the class filled with awkwardness for her. She was forced back into the same class when he called her to his desk. Inviting her to sit down in the chair opposite him, he told her he wanted to talk to her about a "few things to make the class easier and more enjoyable for both of them." She nearly shuddered. She didn't want to be singled out, didn't want to be noticed by him, definitely didn't ever want to be called out by him or talk to him after class like this. She looked at the clock. He told her he had no class the next period, and that he'd write her a pass if she needed one. That wasn't her worry, but she nodded.
He had decided that this was the best course of action. He was tired of her constantly ignoring him. It occurred to him that he wanted her attention, some sign from her that she saw him. Brushing off the alien and unprofessional thought, he began the conversation, every word and sentence constructed carefully.
"Kate. Seeing you in the classroom, and I'm not sure you're getting the most out of your class time here."
So far, so good. He hadn't said anything unnecessary. She still just looked down and kept an impassive face.
"Kate."
Her eyes flickered with recognition of her name but refused to look at him.
"Kate, I'd appreciate it if you looked at me while I'm talking to you."
She looked up and met his eyes. The wild terror in them surprised him, catching him off guard. She looked away again, but allowed herself glances in his direction every once in a while.
"Is there a reason you don't look at the board in class when we take notes?"
She shook her head.
"Kate, do you have a problem with me as a teacher? Kate, look at me when I'm speaking to you, please!"
He felt a slight thrill when she looked up at him in utter surprise. It pleased him to finally have her full attention. It was frustrating that anyone as beautiful as she was would struggle in his classroom under his teaching, even though he wanted for her to seek him out and talk with him. He wanted her to succeed in class, but more than that he wanted to see her focus on him and trust him. The thought was new and surprising, but overpowering.
"I don't have any problems with you. I just....I don't know..."
Dammit. It would take forever to get anything out of her if he didn't try a different tactic. Reaching across the desk that separated them, he touched her arm gently, as if he was worried about breaking her. She was so delicate and fragile. He worried about her sometimes, the way her soft skin might be bruised by the touch of a rougher man...
She instantly jerked back at his touch. It was too much, he was suddenly talking directly to her and then when she was struggling for words he touched her arm and made her feel weird. This person was a teacher. Not only a teacher, but a man as well. He was an adult, a person far removed from her small world. He was experienced in life and scary. She didn't want attention from him, yet his slightly intimate touch had surprised her and confused her. She didn't understand men yet was sure that he definitely didn't see her as more than a student. He was a teacher after all, practically a robot.
