Amy looked down at her fingers coated with the chalk dust and sighed to herself. Just one more day to the weekend. She had the parent teacher conference looming ahead of her, though. She would have to call on all her patience and tact as parent after parent entered her classroom to discuss a child’s performance. It would be a long night.
She brushed her shoulder length auburn hair to the side as she reached for the eraser. As she removed the day’s lessons from the board she remembered that it was always fascinating to see who showed up. She imagined the people responsible for the kids she must teach each day. And, what do these parents think of her? Some of the fathers would flirt with her. She was used to it. At 27, with a slender figure, long legs, and big blue eyes she drew her share of attention. It was flattering as long as it remained tacit flirting and no more.
In the washroom she carefully put on some light lipstick and brushed her hair. She looked at her white, buttoned-up blouse, long skirt, and sensible flats. A conservative look. Each morning, when dressing, she always paused in front of her mirror and asked herself, “do I look like a teacher?” She remembered those from her own education. Old, they seemed old and distant and, in many cases, sexless. What did they do when away from school? Surely some had lives that none of us kids could imagine. She knows she does and smiled to herself.
Weekends were not spent in the library or leading a Brownie troop or girls’ softball team. No, she would go out with her friends and dance, party, hell, just get crazy. She was careful to go to the city to do that, not wanting to run into a fellow teacher or administrator while out. There was a clear line between work and play in her life.
She looked at her watch. An hour until the first meeting. Grabbing her purse, she headed to the empty teacher lounge and then out the adjacent exit. Looking around, making sure the children were not in the nearby parking lot, she ducked down a stairwell. She took out a pack of Virginia Slims 120s and placed the long white cigarette in her lips. Lighting it and then exhaling gently through her pink lips. Ahh, she had wanted to do that all day. She rarely smoked in front of other teachers and never in front of students. She liked the reputation she had as quiet, reserved, and serious. She was afraid her smoking habit might reveal a different self to others at the school. As she looked at the long, slim, burning cigarette in her manicured nails she had to admit it was a decidedly sexy look and not quite compatible with the image she presented during the workday.
She took one last drag on her cigarette, exhaling the white smoke into the air and watching it carried away by the wind. Carefully she ground it out in a nearby receptacle noticing the trace of her lipstick on the filter.
Back in the school she prepared for her first meeting. The father of Danny Williams was scheduled first. It might not be pleasant as Danny was one of the most disruptive students and his more recent report card reflected it – unsatisfactory marks across the board. She heard a knock at the door. Opening it, she greeted a short, broad man with salon-tanned face. His haired slicked back and wearing a polyester suit he looked like the prototypical car salesman.
“Mr. Williams?”
“Yes, Ms. Goodman, right? I got the right room? Len Williams. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams.”
Amy extended her hand to him and he grasped it firmly as his eyes scanned her from top to bottom and back up again. Geez, could he be more obvious, she thought to herself.
“Please, call me Len.”
“Okay, um, Len, please have a seat.”
Sitting across from one another, Amy brought out her notes and Danny’s recent report card. Carefully, she went through Danny’s performance, or lack thereof, and detailed some of the problems he was having. Amazingly, Williams was hardly paying attention, instead fixating his eyes on her body.
Is this asshole going to take me seriously?
“So, you see, Mr. Williams, I mean Len, there really is cause for concern here.”
“Well, Ms. Goodman I ..say, what is your first name?”
“Amy.”
“Well, Amy you know how boys are at this age – hell, the kids got spirit. He’s a charmer – takes after his old man! He He.”
Amy groaned inwardly.
“I’m sure he’ll grow out of whatever you think the problem is,” he said. “But, if you want I’ll try to reign him in. You know he’s gotta learn how to behave around a pretty woman.”
He winked.
Did he really do that?
He moved his chair closer.
“If I had known he had such an attractive teacher I would have gotten to the kid a while ago. Must be tough teaching these kids. What do you do for fun?”
“Mr. Williams, I’d like to keep the conversation on Danny.”
“Len, please! Sure, sure, but look, a young lady like yourself has gotta live a little. We should, you know, meet for a drink sometime.”
Amy looked at the ring on his finger.
She glanced up at the clock and then her watch.
“My goodness, we are running late. Mr. Williams, err Len, I’m afraid I have to prepare for my next meeting, but I want to thank you for taking the time to come here today.”
He put on a shit-eating grin.
“Ahh, you are a tough one…okay. Sure, well, thank you Amy. Your boyfriend or husband must be a lucky man..he he.”
She stood up and extended her hand.
“Well, he is and thank you for coming in.”
