Starting a new school is always difficult, especially when you're a teacher starting a new school. I am not usually nervous, but I was when the bell rang on the first day. I had moved from the comfort of my house in Western Virginia to a small little town named Helena in Oklahoma. It was a quiet little town, rained a lot too, with roughly 443 people living there. I was lucky to get the job as a performing arts teacher since there were 10 of us in the running. I looked at myself in the wing mirror of my car, checking my teeth and hair, before I turned to face the high school. There were little students here yet. Many of the teachers were only just arriving in their drab grey car and drab grey clothes. I smiled at myself, thinking of all the fresh talent this school had to offer.
I opened the doors of my small, yet bright office. It smelt fresh, new. I placed my brief case on the chair before heading back to my car to collect my things. The car park was becoming fuller, full of the early students with cups of warm steaming coffee in their hands and tired looks across their faces. A few more teachers had begun arriving. These were the ones like me, young happy teachers who hadn't suffered the years of horrific experiences. I opened the boot of my old rusty Ford fiesta, a car I had salvaged from a scrap yard. It was perfectly good; it just had a few rusty patches in places. I picked up a small cardboard box, placing it down closing the boot. Once back inside I began sorting out the contents of my box, placing the small plant on my desk along with the photo of my dog. I took a step back to examine my work as the bell went for first period. I walked into the sea of pupils. Jocks Populars and the nerds swarmed around me as I walked towards the drama studio. I walked in and found a small hand full of seniors sitting on various chairs, slumped against the wall or standing around rambling to their friends.
"Alright class..." I called
A few paid a moments notice before going back to doing what they were previously doing. I sighed folding my arms.
"Class...lets begin the lesson!"
More of their head turned and many grumbled to oppose but paid attention enough to listen to my first instruction. I gestured for the stack of old plastic in the corner. Students grumbled and dragged themselves over each pick a chair and dumping it in a rough oval shape. I grinned and turned to the board. Grabbing the fresh acidic smelling board marker and began writing – CHARACTERISATION – in big letters on the off white board. I turned back to the class. Some were slumped in their chairs and half asleep, another was twiddling with her hair.
"Okay...can anyone tell me...what this word means...?"
There was no answer. I sighed and began explaining how characterisation was everything about your character in question. I rambled on for a further five minutes about how it matters how your character walks, talks and sleeps. It was at that point, when a late student entered the class room.
"Sorry sir…I missed the bus…" she smiled innocently at me
I turned to face the girl. She looked around 16, with her slender athletic frame. She was certainly a sports person, though you could only really tell by the way she balanced on the balls of her feet. Her long golden hair hung loosely round her shoulder line, glistening in the light. She wore a halter neck peach top with denim jeans and black sandals. Her face was like brushed in make up, with pink cheeks and lips. To end with, she had beautiful sapphire blue eyes that captivated me. I couldn't help but grin.
"Grab a seat um…" I paused, waiting for her to introduce herself
"It's Katrina Denali….." she smirked, gliding over to the chairs
Katrina, I thought to myself. Meaning pure, and comes from the Greek word Katharos; pretty name.
"But please call me Kate" she continued placing her chair and bag down on the floor.
I smiled at her "Now, let's continue"
