“Yeah, whatever,” Becki said, turning to the girl next to her to say something in a whisper. And she glanced up at Victoria as she did, which made her feel they were talking about her. She tried to regain her composure, collected the papers that had been done, and thanked the students who had completed the assignment.
“For those who didn’t,” Victoria said calmly, “you have till Monday. And from now on, I expect you to turn your assignments in on time.” It threw off the assignment she had planned to give them to do over the weekend. But less than half the class had done the work.
She discussed the power of the essay then, and handed out some examples, explaining why they worked, and pointing out the strengths of each piece. And this time the entire group ignored her. Two girls in the back row were wearing iPods, three of the boys were laughing at a private joke, several of the girls were passing notes, and Becki pulled out her BlackBerry and sent texts. Victoria felt like she’d been slapped and wasn’t sure what to do. They were five years younger than she was and behaving like total brats.
“Are we having a problem here?” she finally said quietly. “Are you under the impression that you don’t have to pay attention to this class? Or even be polite? Do you care about your grades at all? I know you’re seniors, and your junior transcript goes on your college apps, but if you flunk this class, it’s not going to look so great and may keep you out of the college of your choice.”
“You’re just a temp till Mrs. Bernini gets back,” a boy in the back row called out.
“Mrs. Bernini isn’t coming back this year. That could be bad news for both of us, or good news if you decide to make the best of it. It’s up to you. If you’d rather fail this class, that’s your choice. You can explain it to the dean. And your parents. It’s very simple actually—you do the work, you get the grades. You don’t bother, and don’t turn your assignments in, you fail the class. I’m sure Mrs. Bernini saw it the same way,” Victoria said, as she walked past Becki and took her BlackBerry away.
“You can’t do that! I was texting my mom!” she complained with an angry look.
“Do it after class. If there’s an emergency, go to the office. Don’t text in my class. That goes for you too,” she said, pointing to a girl in the second row, who had actually been exchanging text messages with Becki. “Let’s get this straight, no BlackBerrys, no cell phones, and no iPods in my class. No texting. We’re here to work on English composition.” They didn’t look impressed, and while she was talking to them, the bell rang, and they all stood up. No one waited for her to dismiss the class. She was seriously disheartened as they left the room, and she put the assignments that had been turned in into her briefcase. And she was even more depressed when her second class of seniors came in, and were equally disruptive. She had been identified as the teacher to play with, be rude to, and ignore.
It was as though a memo had gone out to all seniors to jerk her around. She was near tears when Helen came into her classroom after the kids left. Victoria was gathering up her things and looked upset.
“Bad day?” she asked, looking sympathetic. Until then Victoria wasn’t sure if she and Helen were allies, but she looked friendly when she walked in.
“Not so great actually,” Victoria admitted as she picked up her briefcase with a sigh.
“You’ve got to get them in control fast before they beat you up. Seniors can be nasty if they get out of hand. Juniors are always stressed out of their minds, and sophomores are just kids. Freshmen are babies and scared to death the first half of the year. They’re easy.” She had it down pat, and Victoria smiled.
“Too bad Mrs. Bernini didn’t teach freshmen. And I’ve got a double dose of seniors with two classes.”
“They’ll eat you for breakfast if you let them,” Helen warned her. “You have to kick ass. Don’t be too nice, and don’t try to be their friend. Especially as young as you are. The kids at Madison can be great, and most of them are smart, but a lot of them are very manipulative and think they own the world. They’ll clean the floor with you if you don’t watch out, and so will their parents. Don’t take any shit from them. Trust me. You need to be tough.” Helen looked serious as she said it.
“I guess you’re right. Less than half of them did the assignment and they sat around the class texting, writing messages, and listening to iPods. They couldn’t have cared less.” Helen knew how hard that was for a young teacher, and had been there herself.
“You’ve gotta be tough,” she said again, as she followed Victoria out of her classroom and headed back to her own. “Give them big assignments, challenge them, give them an F when they don’t turn in an assignment. Kick them out if they’re not paying attention or doing the work. Confiscate their stuff. It’ll wake them up.” Victoria nodded. She hated to be that way, but she suspected Helen was right. “And forget the little creeps over the weekend. Do something nice for yourself,” she said in a motherly tone. “And first thing Monday morning, kick their asses. Mark my words, they’ll sit up and take notice.”
“Thanks,” Victoria said, and smiled at her again. “Have a nice weekend.” She appreciated Helen’s advice, and it made her like her better than she had at first.
“You too!” Helen said, and went back into her classroom to pick up her things.
Victoria walked home from school with a heavy heart. She felt like an utter failure with her two senior classes, and the juniors and sophomores hadn’t gone well either. It almost made her wonder why she had wanted to be a teacher. She had been all idealistic and starry-eyed, and she wasn’t doing them any good. The end of the week had gone badly, and she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to control them, as Helen suggested, and it would get worse. Thinking about it, she stopped to get something for dinner, and she wound up buying three slices of pizza and three pints of Häagen-Dazs ice cream in different flavors, and a bag of Oreo cookies. She knew it wasn’t the answer, but it was comfort food for her. When she got home, she put the pizza in the oven, and opened the pint of chocolate ice cream first. She was more than halfway through it when Bunny came home from the gym. Victoria had been planning to go with her all week but hadn’t had time, while she worked on her plans for her classes. And she was too tired at night. Bunny didn’t comment when she saw her eating the ice cream, but Victoria felt guilty immediately, put the lid back on, and put it back in the freezer with the rest.
“How was your week?” Bunny asked kindly. She thought Victoria looked upset.
“Hard. The kids are tough, and I’m new.”
“I’m sorry. Do something fun this weekend. The weather is going to be great. I’m going up to Boston, Bill is at Julie’s, and I think Harlan is going to Fire Island. You’ll have the apartment to yourself.” That wasn’t entirely good news to Victoria, who was feeling lonely, homesick, and depressed. She missed Grace.
After Bunny left to catch her flight to Boston, Victoria ate the pizza and then called home to talk to Grace. Her mother answered and asked how she was. Victoria said she was fine, and then her father got on the phone.
“Ready to throw in the towel and come home?” he asked with a hearty laugh. She wouldn’t have admitted it to him, but she almost was. She had felt completely inadequate in the classroom and like an utter failure. What he said jolted her back into reality. She wasn’t about to give up.
“Not yet, Dad,” she said, trying to sound happier than she felt. And then Gracie got on the phone, and Victoria almost burst into tears. She really missed her and was suddenly lonely in the empty apartment in a new city with no friends.
They talked for a long time. Gracie told her what she was doing in school, they chatted about her teachers and her classes, and there was a new boy she said she liked. He was a junior. There was always a new boy in Gracie’s life, and never one in her sister’s. Victoria hadn’t felt this miserable in a long time, and she was feeling sorry for herself. But she didn’t say anything to Gracie about what a mess the week had been. After they hung up, Victoria took out the vanilla
ice cream, opened it, walked into her room, turned on the TV, and got into her bed with her clothes on. She put on a movie channel, and finished the ice cream as she watched a movie, and then felt guilty when she looked at the empty ice cream carton next to her bed. It had been her dinner. And she could almost feel her hips growing as she lay there. She was utterly disgusted with herself. She put her pajamas on shortly after, got back in bed, and pulled the covers over her head. She didn’t wake up until the next morning.
To atone for her sins of the night before, she went for a long walk in Central Park on Saturday, and jogged partway around the reservoir. The weather was gorgeous, and she noticed couples strolling all around her, and she felt sad not to have a man in her life. Looking around, she felt as though everyone else did, and she was the odd person out, and always had been. She was crying when she jogged to the edge of the park, and then walked home in her T-shirt and gym shorts and running shoes. And she promised herself she wouldn’t eat any more ice cream that night. It was a promise she intended to keep. And as she sat home alone in the empty apartment and watched another movie, she didn’t eat the ice cream. She ate the bag of Oreo cookies instead.
She spent Sunday correcting the assignments that some of the seniors had done. She was surprised by how good they were, and how creative. A few of her students had real talent, and the essays they’d written were very sophisticated. She was impressed, and said so when she faced her first class on Monday morning. They had slouched in and sprawled in their seats with obvious uninterest. There were at least a dozen BlackBerrys evident on their desks. She walked around the room and picked them up one by one, and put them on her own desk. Their owners reacted immediately and she assured them they could have them back after class. Several of the BlackBerrys were already vibrating with messages on her desk.
She praised them then for their essays, and they were pleased, and then she collected the rest. All but two students had done them. The two who hadn’t were tall, good-looking boys, who appeared cocky and cynical when they said they hadn’t done the assignment, again.
“Is there a problem? The dog ate your homework?” Victoria asked calmly.
“No,” a boy named Mike MacDuff said to her. “We were out in the Hamptons and I played tennis all day Saturday, and golf with my dad on Sunday. And I had a date Saturday night.”
“I’m thrilled for you, Mike. I’ve never been to the Hamptons, but I hear it’s great out there. I’m glad you had such a nice weekend. That’ll be an F on your assignment.” And with that, she turned her attention to the rest of the class and handed out copies of a short story she wanted them to look at, while Mike scowled at her. The boy sitting next to him looked uncomfortable, and had figured out that he was getting an F too.
She helped them dissect the short story, and showed them why it worked. It was a good story, and they seemed to enjoy it, they paid closer attention to her this time, and she felt better about the class. Even Becki had contributed some remarks about the story. And Victoria asked them to write a short story as their assignment. Mike stopped at her desk on the way out, and in a gruff voice he asked whether, if he did the assignment he’d missed, she’d drop the F for his failure to write it.
“Not this time, Mike,” she said pleasantly, feeling like a monster, but she remembered Helen’s warning on Friday not to let them get away with anything. She had to make an example of Mike and the other boy who hadn’t bothered to do the first assignment.
“That sucks!” he said loudly as he strode out of the room and slammed the door on the way out. Victoria looked undisturbed, and got ready for the second class, which started a few minutes later.
They were tougher than the first group. And there was a girl in the class who was determined to take Victoria on and humiliate her. She made several comments about women who were overweight before Victoria started talking. She pretended not to have heard the girl’s remarks. Her name was Sally Fritz. She had dark red hair and freckles, and a tattoo of a star on the back of one hand.
“Where did you go to school anyway?” she asked Victoria rudely as she started to teach the class. She had totally interrupted what Victoria was saying.
“Northwestern. Are you thinking of applying?”
“Hell, no,” Sally said loudly. “It’s too cold there.”
“Yes, it is, but I loved it. It’s a good school, once you get used to the weather.”
“I’m applying to California and Texas.”
Victoria nodded. “I’m from L.A. There are some terrific schools in California,” she said pleasantly.
“My brother went to Stanford,” Sally volunteered as though they weren’t in class, and she didn’t care if they were. She was very brash. Victoria went on with the class then, and shared the same short story with them that she had gone over with the first class that morning. This group was livelier and more critical of the piece, which made for some interesting discussions around the room, and they got into it, in spite of their intention of torturing her and being difficult. She swept them all into the analysis of the story and a lively exchange, and some of them were still talking about it when they left the room, and Victoria looked pleased. She didn’t mind being challenged by her students, or even argued with if they had valid points. The goal of her teaching was to make them question what they knew and thought they believed in. The short story she had exposed them to had done that. It had been a victory for her. And she stopped in to see Helen on her way to the teachers’ lounge to correct papers.
“Thanks for the tip the other day,” she said shyly. “It helped.”
“To kick their asses?”
Victoria laughed in answer. “I don’t think I did that. But I gave two F’s in my first class for failure to hand in the assignment.” It was a lot tougher than she thought she would be in the second week of school.
“That’s a start.” Helen grinned at her. “I’m proud of you. It’ll wake up the others.”
“I think it did. And I’m confiscating iPods and BlackBerrys whenever I see them.”
“They hate that,” Helen confirmed. “They’d much rather send text messages to their friends than listen to you, or me, for that matter.” The two women laughed. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
“Nice enough. I went to the park on Saturday, and corrected papers on Sunday.” And ate two pints of ice cream, pizza, and an entire bag of cookies. But she didn’t say it. She knew it was a measure of how discouraged she was. She always ate more when she was unhappy, even though she promised herself she wouldn’t. She could see an imminent return to her size fourteen and sixteen wardrobe in her future. She had brought all four sizes with her. She wanted to avoid winding up a sixteen, which could easily happen at the rate she was eating. She knew she had to start dieting again. It was a constant merry-go-round she could never seem to get off. With no friends, no boyfriend, and no social life, feeling unsure of herself in her job, she was at high risk for putting on weight in New York, despite her good resolutions not to. They never lasted. At the first sign of a crisis, she dove into a pint of ice cream, a bag of cookies, or a pizza. And she had done all three that weekend, which had set off an alarm in her head to be careful before it got out of hand.
Helen could sense that she was lonely, and she seemed very young and innocent to her, and like a nice girl. “Maybe we can go to a movie next weekend. Or a concert in the park,” she offered.
“I’d like that,” Victoria said, looking happy. She felt like the new kid on the block, and she was. And she was the youngest teacher in the school. Helen was twice her age, but she liked Victoria. She thought she was bright, and Helen could tell she was trying, and was dedicated to teaching. She was naïve, but Helen thought she would learn the ropes in time. It was challenging for everyone in the beginning, especially teaching older kids. High school students were the toughest. But Victoria looked like she could handle it if she kept the kids in control. “Are you going to the lounge?” she asked Helen hopefully.
“I’ve got ano
ther class. I’ll catch you later.” Victoria nodded, and walked down the hall to the lounge. It was deserted. Everyone had gone to lunch, and she was trying not to. She had brought an apple in her briefcase and had vowed to be good. She sat munching it as she read the papers. And once again, they were surprisingly good. She had some very bright students. She just hoped she was bright enough to teach them and hold their interest for the entire year. She was feeling very unsure of herself. Now that she was faced with a classroom full of real people, this was much harder than she had anticipated, and it was going to take more than just discipline to keep them in line. Helen had given her some helpful hints, and Carla Bernini had set up the syllabus before going on maternity leave, but Victoria knew that she had to infuse her classes with life and excitement in order to keep the kids hooked. And she was scared to death that she wasn’t good enough to do it and would fail. She wanted to be good at it more than anything. She didn’t care how little the job paid, this was her vocation, and she wanted to be a great teacher, the kind kids remembered for years. She had no idea if she could do it, but she was trying her best. And this was only the beginning. The school year had just started.
For the next two weeks, Victoria fought to keep her students’ attention. She confiscated cell phones and BlackBerrys, she gave them tough assignments, and one day when her sophomore class was too restless, she took them for a walk around the neighborhood, and made them write about it. She tried to come up with every creative idea she could, and to get to know every one of her students in all four classes, and she began to get the feeling after two months that some of them liked her. She racked her brain on the weekends searching for ideas for them, new books to read, and new projects. And sometimes she surprised them with unexpected quizzes and assignments. There was nothing dull about her classes. And by late November, she felt like she was beginning to get somewhere with them and win their respect. Not all of her students liked her, but at least they were paying attention and responding to her. By the time she got on the plane to go home for the Thanksgiving holiday, she had a feeling of accomplishment, until she saw her father. He looked at her with surprise when he met her at the airport with her mother and Grace, who hurled herself into Victoria’s arms with glee, as her big sister kissed her.
Big Girl: A Novel Page 11
