Dusk arrives early in these winter days and the dense clouds filter the sunlight into a gloomy glow for whatever there is left of the day. The day goes by sometimes slow, sometimes fast; it all depends on the mood and on the variables involved. Since the plot takes place in a town called Brewster, the assortment of possible activities is considerably limited. For those who have lived here before, will know what I’m talking about. It is not all bad, it is not all good. It is something in between. It is just one day that could’ve been better or could’ve been worse:
It is early morning on Friday, and I’m having a hard time getting off my bed because last night I concluded my reading way after midnight. That night, I ventured in kidnapping my sister’s cat so that I could have some company, but since I knew the impossibility of ransom from my sister’s part, I decided to return the cat that same night.
I wait for my sister and niece on this Friday morning so that we can commute to work together, in perfect harmony, like good siblings and family in general should; that way, I avoid walking the five-block way to school. It is fairly cold outside, and although I could almost touch the dense clouds with my fingers if I stretched a little more, there are no signs of snowing; this season is taking longer. The scentless smell of the cold air quickly wakes me up, and there we go to work while my sister gives her daily prayer on-the-go, from which my niece and I approve with an “Amen!”
I usually make sure that my assigned group of not-so-outstanding students is at least trying to do some of their tasks, but this time we are working on origami on the first and second period. And there I am, wrestling with the paper, but I finally manage in creating a dove, a penguin and a star.
Then, my 20 minute break starts. I promptly proceed to the lunchroom to have some time alone so that I can avoid hearing one of fellow employees complaining about how much he dislikes being a teacher and praising himself as one of the best in the business. So I sit there by myself in the lunchroom thinking about things I usually keep to myself and, for a moment, consider calling someone; but then, I think it twice, since it’s still too early to be annoying people myself.
Next period passes by rather quickly with the only news that it has finally started to snow. Everyone is excited in the classroom after the announcement has been made by one of the students sitting by the window. The class is dismissed for lunch and so am I. I’m not very hungry so I decide to spend that time in the classroom reading news articles in the computer: there’s nothing new about the news, but the same bad news about a declining economy.
Then, I hear the receptionist through the speakerphone announcing a reminder to the students that it is against th
e rules to throw snowballs at each other. Ironically, I observe them out the window already running like crazy headless chickens, getting ready for battle as they tightly compress the freshly fallen snow. And there it goes: snowballs flying all over the place! I just smile in silence in the safety of the classroom.
Fourth period, the usual: helping “my” students catch up with the rest of the class. They are getting closer indeed, but sometimes they give me headaches. Fifth period, I realize how much my two non-English speaking students have improved in algebra compared to the rest of the class. The teacher tells me that she is pleased with their improvement and that she would completely disregard their previous performance and would only include their current work on their transcripts.
Then, as I am getting ready for geometry on sixth period, the sister of one of my students from geometry class greets me and tells me that her grandmother cried when she saw her grandson’s grades. I thought for a moment that I had done something wrong to make the old lady cry. Instead, she was crying because her grandson had never had a B in math, thus, the positive emotional reaction from the grandmother’s side. Cool!
The geometry teacher is absent today due to something about her going to another school to observe another teacher teach. I’m assisting the substitute teacher, who doesn’t put much discipline in the class, so most students are just fooling around. I reprehend a few of them because they just can’t keep their fingers away from their cell phones. I few others ask me for help on their assignment. Another student tells me that I don’t look like a Mexican… “In a good way!” he rapidly adds to his statement, just to make sure I don’t get offended. And I don’t, because he is of Mexican parents himself. So I just ask him: “How is a Mexican supposed to look like?” Then, he realizes the ambiguity of his question.
It’s the end of school day; even better: it’s Friday! But I don’t get too excited, because the snow, now indiscriminately having buried all Brewster, limits me from doing even more things. And the gloomy glow of the snowy day and the early dusk make things even worse. So my plan is to stay in my room and watch a movie, or hang out with my next-door neighbors for awhile, or maybe both. Then, read a book or work on some probability problems, or maybe both. Then, maybe kidnap the cat again to give me some company while I play guitar. Then, think about things I would otherwise prefer to talk about to someone rather than keeping them to myself or telling them to the cat.
It is early morning on Friday, and I’m having a hard time getting off my bed because last night I concluded my reading way after midnight. That night, I ventured in kidnapping my sister’s cat so that I could have some company, but since I knew the impossibility of ransom from my sister’s part, I decided to return the cat that same night.
I wait for my sister and niece on this Friday morning so that we can commute to work together, in perfect harmony, like good siblings and family in general should; that way, I avoid walking the five-block way to school. It is fairly cold outside, and although I could almost touch the dense clouds with my fingers if I stretched a little more, there are no signs of snowing; this season is taking longer. The scentless smell of the cold air quickly wakes me up, and there we go to work while my sister gives her daily prayer on-the-go, from which my niece and I approve with an “Amen!”
I usually make sure that my assigned group of not-so-outstanding students is at least trying to do some of their tasks, but this time we are working on origami on the first and second period. And there I am, wrestling with the paper, but I finally manage in creating a dove, a penguin and a star.
Then, my 20 minute break starts. I promptly proceed to the lunchroom to have some time alone so that I can avoid hearing one of fellow employees complaining about how much he dislikes being a teacher and praising himself as one of the best in the business. So I sit there by myself in the lunchroom thinking about things I usually keep to myself and, for a moment, consider calling someone; but then, I think it twice, since it’s still too early to be annoying people myself.
Next period passes by rather quickly with the only news that it has finally started to snow. Everyone is excited in the classroom after the announcement has been made by one of the students sitting by the window. The class is dismissed for lunch and so am I. I’m not very hungry so I decide to spend that time in the classroom reading news articles in the computer: there’s nothing new about the news, but the same bad news about a declining economy.
Then, I hear the receptionist through the speakerphone announcing a reminder to the students that it is against th
e rules to throw snowballs at each other. Ironically, I observe them out the window already running like crazy headless chickens, getting ready for battle as they tightly compress the freshly fallen snow. And there it goes: snowballs flying all over the place! I just smile in silence in the safety of the classroom.Fourth period, the usual: helping “my” students catch up with the rest of the class. They are getting closer indeed, but sometimes they give me headaches. Fifth period, I realize how much my two non-English speaking students have improved in algebra compared to the rest of the class. The teacher tells me that she is pleased with their improvement and that she would completely disregard their previous performance and would only include their current work on their transcripts.
Then, as I am getting ready for geometry on sixth period, the sister of one of my students from geometry class greets me and tells me that her grandmother cried when she saw her grandson’s grades. I thought for a moment that I had done something wrong to make the old lady cry. Instead, she was crying because her grandson had never had a B in math, thus, the positive emotional reaction from the grandmother’s side. Cool!
The geometry teacher is absent today due to something about her going to another school to observe another teacher teach. I’m assisting the substitute teacher, who doesn’t put much discipline in the class, so most students are just fooling around. I reprehend a few of them because they just can’t keep their fingers away from their cell phones. I few others ask me for help on their assignment. Another student tells me that I don’t look like a Mexican… “In a good way!” he rapidly adds to his statement, just to make sure I don’t get offended. And I don’t, because he is of Mexican parents himself. So I just ask him: “How is a Mexican supposed to look like?” Then, he realizes the ambiguity of his question.
It’s the end of school day; even better: it’s Friday! But I don’t get too excited, because the snow, now indiscriminately having buried all Brewster, limits me from doing even more things. And the gloomy glow of the snowy day and the early dusk make things even worse. So my plan is to stay in my room and watch a movie, or hang out with my next-door neighbors for awhile, or maybe both. Then, read a book or work on some probability problems, or maybe both. Then, maybe kidnap the cat again to give me some company while I play guitar. Then, think about things I would otherwise prefer to talk about to someone rather than keeping them to myself or telling them to the cat.
