The Class

The moment I entered the classroom I had a feeling that the experience would be memorable. Looking around the class, I saw a crowd of fifteen nine-year old children creating a ruckus. Running kids, jumping kids, flying paper planes – I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy job.

All this started a few days back when our moral science teacher assigned us social science projects. I got the one I dreaded the most – teaching mathematics to a junior class for one day! I had never liked babysitting. Last time when I babysat our neighbor’s child, the kid succeeded in putting my pants on fire! From that day I made it a point to stay out of sight of that evil kid and pledged to never babysit again. Unfortunately, I was forced to break my oath.

Man, this is going to be real tough, I thought as I stared in bewilderment at the feral third-graders. I decided acting tough would do the trick for me. So, mimicking our mathematics teacher, I knocked at the door with my duster and barged in. The kids suddenly stopped whatever they were doing and swung their heads towards me.

As fifteen pairs of keen eyes stared at me, I stood behind the teacher’s desk shuffling my options. Thinking of giving an introduction wouldn’t be a bad idea, I boomed, “I am here to teach you mathematics. I don’t want any disturbance and I won’t tolerate any indiscipline; and I mean none.” Surprisingly, the children quickly rearranged among themselves and were soon sitting at their desks. That wasn’t bad, I thought, pleased with myself.

It was all going smoothly and I had been able to finish two chapters peacefully. The students were being very co-operative too as most were dozing quietly in their places with their heads down, and some were gazing up at the ceiling thinking, perhaps about Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. I smiled to myself – at last my plan had succeeded. But trouble began when I turned around to write a sum on the blackboard.

Suddenly I felt a wet thing strike the nape of my neck. I ran my hand over my neck to find a wet paper ball stuck to it. After thinking for a moment and figuring out my next step, I swung around to see the whole class giggling away. “QUIET!” I shouted, banging my duster on the table, scaring myself in the process. “Who did this? I asked, WHO DID THIS?” I glared ferociously around looking for an answer. “If I don’t get an answer in one minute I am going to punish the whole class; and I mean it!” I threatened.

The giggling had died away and the kids looked tensed. At last I will have the last laugh, I thought revengefully. Waiting for about one minute, I went on with my grand plan. “Stand up on your benches. All of you. NOW!” I yelled. The monkeys slowly climbed up obediently onto their chairs. “Now hold your ears.” They obliged without a word. I feasted my eyes upon my masterpiece. That’s how a teacher should be. I am just great!

Just like the whistle of a train approaching from the horizon, I heard a strange humming noise, which slowly seemed to become louder and louder. Without any warning, the faces of the kids started distorting and within a few seconds an orchestrated crying concert commenced. I stood there rooted to the ground gaping at my crumbling magnum opus.

After that incident, I was so shaken up that I wasn’t even able to go to school for one straight week. I got a D in my project but it had no effect on me as I was still recovering from my numbing experience.