Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Teacher

The Teacher

Anger rose, bubbling ferociously, like a witch’s gruesome brew. Jaws clenched and fists curled, I glared. Her dangerously sweet, high pitched voice sickened me.

“Mm-hm”, she squealed, “Mm-hm, yea….yea!” Her eyes were glued to mine, eyebrows raised as if I were a dumb animals, thick-headed and confused. I comprehend what you’re saying! I screamed to her in my head, I’m not stupid!

I watched the flab, hanging loosely off her throat and chin with interest. My ears shut off, and my thoughts turned to the flab, and only the flab. I looked slowly up to her thin, wide lips gabbing up and down. One who was exceptionally skilled at lip-reading would be clueless if they attempted to read her hers.

She lectured the class: it seemed as if she would go on and on for years and years. I thought, Racist teachers shouldn’t teach Social Studies, off all the subjects. It was obvious she despised me of my tanned brown skin and thick black hair. No doubt she hated students of different religion, the biodiversity in the class bothered her so much, she would explode. Even more, she had admitted to have gone to an all-white school in Virginia, back in the time where blacks and whites were separated. I sometimes think of how much she wished her class was all white.

I saw the mocking look in her evil, tiny black eyes as she wobbles, pacing back and forth across the front of the classroom. My hate aroused as she began to humiliate another victim, attacking like a vicious soldier shooting an enemy down.

She feasted on his embarrassment and confusion, and then prowled to catch more prey, hungry and thirsty.

I glanced at the clock, anxious to leave this prison; metal anklets and iron shackles chained me to my desk, and the bell alone could release me. And it did.

The teacher frowned, disappointed by the fact that her students were leaving. However, she appeared slightly cheery, knowing that more students would arrive next period.

Everyone packed hastily, eager to escape the teacher’s clutches. In less than two minutes, the entire class had emptied, like a fast-forwarded hourglass.

I strutted out, proud of myself for not cracking like an egg when provoked by the teacher. I survived, I grinned, feeling very accomplished. My triumph faded as my mind dreaded the next day, but just for today, just for this one moment, I chose to ignore it and be glad.


Amanda-Lee said...

wow that was powerful!!!

just a note, mind your grammar, its not obvious because the emotion enthralls you in the story, but yeah just a tip...i know everyday i pick up gramatical errors in all of my work...

love your writing!!!!

keep it up xx

Kirthi said...

oh, okay! I'll check over it and edit it :D
thank youu :)