That Teacher

• Lauren Forrester, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2016

We all have that teacher. You know the one I'm talking about. When you see their subject on your timetable, you feel like kicking something. Or when you see them as your sub, you could just about throw a tantrum. Well, for me, that teacher was Mrs Knead. Her lessons were an absolute punishment- and that was just her teaching style. It could only be described as extensively explanatory- and, if you dared to march ahead, “slow down, sweetie!” was all you would hear. Of course, god forbid you complete your work ahead of time. Now that was a spectacle. But it wasn't just her rather odd teaching methods. You see, Mrs Knead was all about freedom- clothing freedom. Freedom that, unfortunately for my eyesight, left little to the imagination.

Friday was lycra day- and I'll leave that unhappy time to your imagination. So, in short, Mrs Knead was my absolute worst nightmare. Until, one day, I decided that it was time for me to divulge in a little payback for all those lycra shirts. Payback for all who had suffered underneath her- my fellow peers. So, the other morning, when I glimpsed the ratty hairstyle she sported every day without fail in my classroom, I didn't run in the other direction as my auto-pilot screamed me too. I strode into class with a large – somewhat strained - smile occupying my face, placed my bag down, and proceeded to begin my work. It had only been around five minutes before I made the signal. An almost tell-tale whisper of a cat's meow. As I gradually got louder, more animal noises began to resound around the classroom. A boisterous bark boomed from the back corner. A moderate moo creaked out of the opposite corner.

With a chuckle and a shake of her hair – among other things – Mrs Knead laughed off the sounds, before telling everyone to stay focused. But unfortunately for her, the symphony was just beginning. A clucking chicken jabbered from the front, promptly followed by the turbulent trumpeting of an elephant. Evidently frazzled, Mrs Knead struggled to maintain order. She just couldn't catch anyone's lips moving- further adding to her confusion and frustration. The bleating baa of a sheep, the near-booming neigh of a horse. It truly was a hoot.

All was well and good- until our Principal walked past our classroom. Widening her eyes, she looked like an owl, though I doubted she would be willing to join in on the zoo. After a few choice words, the animals that had taken residence in our classroom ceased their howls, their chirps, their warbles and their whines. Although the blame never fell on anyone, the joke was well and truly over. For that lesson anyway. I must say, I do look forward till the next time Mrs Knead has the pleasure of teaching me.