For the 6th time that day a bell rang, signaling one load of children to retire and another to enter. They piled into the classroom in an unorganized fashion and sat at whatever desk they saw fit. Just one more period, Arthur thought exhausted to himself. It was his first day of teaching, and in America none the less. Though the company was poor at best, and the town he was staying in much worse, he still found himself enjoying his new teaching job, as well as the school.
It was an old building, made of sturdy red bricks and reaching a tall bell tower to the sky (though the bell hadn't made a sound in years.) The inside of the school was a collage of old and new. Some rooms had been bent and rebuilt with the latest equipment and technology, while others pertained their former looks and glory. These rooms were Arthur's favorites, one of which he taught in.
It had old wooden floors that creaked when you stepped on them, and a chalkboard , complete with erasers that needed to be banged out at the end of the day. The wall paint was old and peeling, and the thick glass over the large windows was a mess with scratches. The room itself was simply old, as if an ancient dust had settled over the whole thing. Though some would find such rooms repulsive, Arthur actually preferred them. He had always loved old architecture.
"Alright everyone, please take your seats," he ordered over the noise of murmuring children. "My name is Mr. Kingston, and I'm going to be your world history teacher this year."
Arthur surveyed his class as he took attendance. It seemed no different than any other class he had seen that day: a random mix of students, students of all kinds.There were the popular ones, the clever ones, the stupid ones. That one will be a trouble maker, that one will get all A's, et cetera, et cetera. But as he surveyed this class, he found something he hadn't expected to see: a pair of eyes looking right back at his. They were soft, yet held a direct gaze, and Arthur found himself surrounded by them, if only for a brief moment. And then it wasn't just the eyes, but the whole face that captured him, a face lit with recognition that soon mirrored his own.
"Kaesha Write," he called from the attendance sheet.
"Here," she replied. And then she smiled at him.
