Suzie’s House 197: Here Comes the New Boss, Same As the Old Boss

“Miss Martin, a word if you please,” Mr. Gordon said at the end of class.

Tracy fought the urge to roll her eyes. Teachers hated it when you rolled your eyes, especially at the end of class on the first day of school. It kind of made them hard to deal with all year long.

“Yes, sir,” she said instead of all the things she’d like to say. Things like she knew this was going to happen as soon as he strutted into the room and wrote his name on the chalk board. There was something about the decisionivness about the way he moved that always went with teachers who couldn’t handle her.

Most all the rest of the students were already out the door. Gene kind of hung back and gave her a look, all raised eyebrows and serious mouth. She loved him for that expression alone. She gave him a grin and waved at him to go on ahead. Still, he was real slow going out the door.

She got all her books put away into her book bag, then went up to the teacher’s desk to talk about whichever rule infraction was on his mind at the moment.

“You seem like a bight kid,” he said after clearing his throat authoritativenessly. “I have high hopes for you.”

She kept her mouth closed and nodded. That generally worked the best. One of her fake hair extensions – a purple one – dropped onto his desk and coiled there like a dead snake. She scooped it up and jammed it into her hair by the little comb thingy.

His eyes followed the whole operation with that kind of vague horror some people got when they had to stand too close to her. She could feel his pain because she was such a weirdo and all, which made her feel sorry for him, but if she gave ground too fast now it would be next to impossible to get enough room to breathe later.

“I think you could really do something special with your life…”

Ah, here came the “But.”

“…but you aren’t going anywhere if you don’t apply yourself.”

Tracy raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight to one leg. How would he know whether or not she applied herself? They’d only had one class, and he hadn’t assigned anything yet.

“You also strike me as the independent type.”

She could hardly argue with that.

“So I have a proposal for you. As long as you pull straight A’s in my class, and don’t disrupt it too much, I’ll let you do what ever you want.”

Whoa, this was a new one. Tracy straightened fast. “But grades can be subjective.”

“Look at your syllabus. See? I show where your grades will come from and how it will work.”

“But this is social studies, not math. How can I be sure you’ll be fair?”

“I’ll make it clear to the whole class what I expect on the tests. If we disagree, we can call in a third party – either another teacher or a student – to arbitrate.”

“All right. You’re on.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it. “I better get to my next class.” She shouldered her bag and turned away.

“About your clothing choices,” he said half-heartedly, “any chance you could follow the school dress code?”

“Nope,” she said without hesitation, not bothering to look. “Not a chance.”

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