Bad Teacher

Welcome.

College sucks. Well at least this dumb community college does. Especially this dumb history class. My professor, Ms. Lowski, or what we like to call her: Ms. Hag - cause that's what she was - a thirty year old hag. But Ms. Hag had actually had sex (who in their right mind?) and is now knocked up and is on maternity leave. So now I'm in class waiting for our substitute to show up. With my luck, they'll be worse then the hag herself. I only have this history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays for like 2 hours and it's my only class on those days.

Class starts in 5 minutes and this damn sub isn't even here. C'mon. I don't want to be here, the least they can do is show up to the class they're supposed to be teaching the rest of the semester.

Almost on cue, a guy walks into the classroom. "So sorry I'm late class, traffic was horrible."

Yeah, sure. I had no trouble getting here.

He was tall. His button up shirt showed off his tattoos on his forearms. His hair was brown and short. His facial hair made him look older then he probably was.

"Hello, class. My name is Mr. Oller," he wrote his name on the board, like this was kindergarten. "and I will be teaching you for the rest of the semester." He set his briefcase on the desk. "Just let me find the attendance sheet, real fast," He laughed, as if this all just a joke. Just let me go home already.

"Ahh, here it is." He paused. "When I call your name, please say 'here.'" He looked at the sheet, "Kelly Appleton?" Kelly said here.

Ugh I don't have time for this. I drowned out all the noise until he finally got to my name. "Alexis Martin?"

I raised my hand. "Call me Alex."

"Call me Mr. Oller." He chuckled and said, "Nice to meet you Alex."

I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish with the names. He was oddly too friendly. No one should be that friendly. Especially at 9 in the morning.

"Open your books to page 69." He started laughing really loud, "Just kidding, turn to page 122."

Is he going to make sex jokes regularly? What kind of substitute is he?

"Can we get a volunteer to start reading the first paragraph?" he asked. My classmates rose their hands.

"How about you Alex?" he looked over at me and smiled.

"But other people actually want to read, call on someone else!" What the fuck?

"I called on you Alex. You have to obey the teacher." He gave me a look that actually scared me. His tone in his voice was demanding.

Terrified about what he would do to me if I didn't "obey," I started reading out of the history textbook.

I finished reading my paragraph and he looked at me with a toothy smile, "Thank you Alex. That was very good. See me after class."

Fuck. What now?