Johnny Depp: Short Stories

Frank Tupelo (Comforting)

      "No...." I whispered, my eyes darting over the board hanging outside the Math classroom of my high school. "Oh, God, no."

       My score on my Math final was very good, but not high enough to get me into a post-secondary school.

       Oh, God. What am I gonna tell my parents? Didn't the site say that they look at the last two years of high school? And I studied so hard.....

        Swallowing hard, I breathed in to try and calm myself, but I knew I'd be facing hell at home anyway, so what was the point?

         I had a few schools in mind, but they all needed pretty high grades in order to get in.

          "Y/N? Are you okay?"

          I turned around.

          Mr. Tupelo, my Math teacher, made his way towards me. Brown silky locks framed his face, and his suit had a small bow tie. The goatee and mustache was neatly groomed.

          A soft-spoken, kind man, Mr. Tupelo was very understanding and explained topics well in class. He wasn't a total secretary, but he also wasn't the kind to crack out a joke book in class.

          There were rumors around school that he had plastic surgery at some point, but if so, it was money well-spent.

           "Mr. Tupelo, hi!" I exclaimed, a little too happily for my liking, especially with what just happened.

            A gentle smile curved his lips. "How are you? Did you see what you got?" He inquired.

            Nodding slowly, I point my chin to the board, lips pressed together.

            Silence passes over us for a few seconds as he peers over. Then he glanced at me again.

            "I know you've studied really hard, isn't that a good grade?" He asked, trying to cheer me up.

             "Well, yes...but it's not high enough for the post-secondary schools that I want to apply to later on." Admitting the truth made me want to crawl into a hole. And stay there, forever.

             Mr. Tupelo's eyes softened. Hands clasped behind his back, he took another step towards me, but still at a decent distance.

             "Y/N, you're only in grade eleven. If you would like, you can stay after class on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I could tutor you, from three to five-thirty." He offered, brown eyes darting back and forth on mine.

             "You're a smart student, and very diligent. Just because your grade isn't high enough, that doesn't mean you can't improve, at least."

              For the most part, he was right.

              "But... I don't want to do a high school course after high school." I shrugged.

              A low chuckle escaped his mouth. "I get that, okay. But I've seen your grades, Y/N, and I honestly think you have another shot next year. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but you're one of the few students who actually try and understand the topics." He went on.
 
           I did stay up most nights looking at tutorials on certain topics in Math class, such as the Pythagorean theorem. Math was just a difficult subject for me, in all honesty.

           And I did pass that section of the final fairly well. "I don't know, Mr. Tupelo. I don't know what I'll do if I fai-"

           "Hey, hey, hey. Don't think about that. It's not the end, if your grade isn't high enough. You can apply to other schools, or take a year off. You have options." Hands up, he smiles awkwardly at me. "And you can go to our Career Practitioner, if you need help with a career path."

            His words were so sweet, and his eyes were practically glinting. The faith they held in them...

            Not a lot of teachers in my life have ever been like this to me. They were either good teachers, but the way they taught was boring.

            Or they weren't very popular with the class, and bad at teaching said subject.

            "My parents will be so upset when they see this," I sighed, "They really stress having high grades."

            Mr. Tupelo sighed. As he shifted his position, a whiff of his musky cologne hit my nose.

             I wasn't about to throw up from how strong it was, but it still could be smelled across the room.

            "I didn't know what I wanted to be for the longest time."

             My eyes widened, and I felt my mouth part slightly in shock. This isn't the first time I've heard this, but he seemed like he had it all together, in my eyes.

             "Really?" I asked, my head tilted slightly. "Yes."

             "But when I helped a little boy with his homework while in a daycare center, I realized that I like to help people." Mr. Tupelo shrugged, a crooked smile on his face. "So I decided to be a teacher."

              Scratching his neck,  an eyebrow arched in emphasis. "But it all worked out, because I get to see my students and help them improve in school, or in life. That's what I'm here for."

              I had to admit, he is one of the few teachers I know who seem to love their job.

              "So I'm telling you right now, my offer stands," Mr. Tupelo said, "Well-it's not like I'm paying you for the after school sessions, but they're at least free."

               This brought a laugh out of both of us, and I realized that maybe he was right.

               It was hard enough on my own trying to figure out certain topics in Math, and both my parents work at night, so they couldn't help me.

                And Mr. Tupelo is one of my favorite teachers here, next to my Biology teacher, Mr./Ms./ Mrs. L/N.

                "You have the drive, and the work ethic. I know you can do it. So what do you say?"

                 On top of that, he's a great teacher.

                 I exhaled. "Okay. This Thursday, then?"