When she was a little girl, she always looked forward to the first day of school. She'd dress up in her new school clothes with her new shoes and stuffed her new backpack with a sixty-four box of crayons with a sharpener in the back.
Now it's something she dreads. The same clothes, the same shoes, the same bag. Another year of stale coffee, stupid meetings, and art supplies older than the students using them.
She thought things would be different. She went into this thinking she would inspire the next generation of Picassos and have plenty of time on the weekends to paint her own masterpieces. She was dead wrong. The kids only take her class because it's an easy A and they need an art class to graduate. She spends so much time grading papers and worksheets that she has no time to create art herself. Not that she's had a lot of inspiration lately.
First day back. She can do this. She can do this. She can't do this. She sets one foot in the teacher's lounge and she wants run back home. They're there. They're always there.
The frigid math department: Angela, Martin, and Kevin. She doesn't dare sit next to them. Angela once tried to convert her, Martin thinks she's an idiot because she doesn't know who Euclid was, and Kevin stares at her boobs.
The insular languages department: Oscar, Andy, and Karen. She could sit there but would end being ignored in Spanish, French, and Italian which they all speak with perfect accents from talking about the other departments behind their backs. Bitches.
The oppressive history department: Stanley, Dwight, and Creed. Stanley ignores her, Dwight challenges her to trivia competitions about the Third Reich, and Creed tells her stories about being in the War. He switches the War every time she talks to him. The last time he was a minuteman fighting the Redcoats.
The mean girls of the English department: Phyllis, Kelly, and Erin. She's slightly afraid that they will try to give her a makeover or kill her and make it look like suicide.
The saddest science department in the world: Toby, Meredith, and Ryan. She would only sit with them if there were no other chairs left in the universe. The science department is social suicide.
The jocks of the phys ed department: Jim, Josh, and Jan. They're super aggressive and they all smell like gym socks. Jim tries to flirt with her sometimes and he's kinda cute with that floppy hair but he smells like the inside of a locker.
So, she sits alone. The lonely little island that is the art department.
"Hey, Beesly," Jim calls from across the room.
"Hey... Halpert." That's another thing with the gym teachers. They call everyone by their last names.
"How was your summer?"
"Good. You?"
"The three of us did a triathlon. Fucking rocked it."
"That's good. Congrats."
Thankfully she's spared any more awkward conversation with the jock strap when Dwight yells out quite loudly, "Sit, Mose. Sit!"
She glances back at the doorway. A guy in his late twenties stands hiding behind the frame.
"Mose, sit!"
"No," he squeaks.
"If you want to be a teacher you're going to hafta sit."
Mose shuffles over to Dwight's table. "No, not over here. You can't sit with us. Go sit with her," Dwight says, pointing at Pam. "She's in your department. Go!"
The man child scuttles over and sits down next to Pam. His helplessness makes her ovaries ache.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Are you new here?"
"Yes."
"What do you teach?"
"Ceramics and sculpture."
"Oh. I didn't know we had any ceramics classes."
"You didn't."
"So, how do you know Dwight?"
"He's my cousin."
"Oh. I'm sorry," she says without thinking.
Mose can't stop giggling for five minutes. When he does he says, "I'm Mose."
"I'm Pam."
"So, you teach two dimensional art classes?"
"Yeah. Most people say I teach drawing and painting but, yeah, that's my official title."
"Is there any other art teachers?"
"Nope. We used to have drama and band but those got cut two years ago. I'm glad you're here now. I had about forty kids per class last year."
"Hello, hello everyone!" Michael shouts as he enters the room. "Welcome back. How was your summer?"
No one answers. The language department stares at Michael for a minute and then resumes whispering in Italian.
"We have a new face with us this year. Let's give a warm, Scranton High welcome to Mose Schrute!"
Pam and Dwight are the only ones to clap. Mose looks like he wants to crawl under the table and never leave.
"Okay. We have a few things to--"
"How long is this gonna take?" Stanley says, peaking over his crossword puzzle. "I've got a first period class I need to prep for."
The rest of the teachers echo Stanley. The history department actually stands up and starts to walk out.
"Alright. I guess I'll just email you everything."
Mose runs over to Dwight and says, "Vetter, my face hurts."
"It's just razor burn."
"It still hurts. I don't like these clothes. They itch."
"Stop whining and go to your classroom."
Dwight walks off talking to Creed about the Lebensraum. Mose just stands there looking incredibly lost.
"Hey, Mose. Let's walk to class together. Your room is right next to mine."
He agrees glumly. He looks like Linus from Peanuts when he lost his blanket.
Pam's really worried that the kids will eat this boy up. "If you need any help, just ask okay?"
The first bell rings and the throng of chattering teenagers pushes them into their respective classrooms.
Handout the syllabus. Yes, there is a lab fee. No, there isn't a final exam. Please settle down.
And again. Handout the syllabus. Yes, there is a lab fee. No, there isn't a final exam. Please settle down.
Prep. She walks down the hall and looks in on Mose's class. All of the kids are silently molding pinch pots. It's like the Children of the Corn in there.
And again. Handout the syllabus. Yes, there is a lab fee. No, there isn't a final exam. Please settle down.
Lunch. She grabs her usual Caesar salad from the cafeteria and walks back to her room. Sometimes the artsy kids like to hang out in there. No one today though. She goes into Mose's classroom. He sits at his desk eating reddish soup from a thermos.
"Hey, Mose."
"Hello, Pam."
"How's your first day?"
"Good."
"I saw your third period class. They were really quiet."
"Yes. They were."
"How?"
"Pardon?"
"How did you get them to be quiet?"
He looks off dreamily. "I don't know..."
"If you remember could you share your secret with the rest of us?"
"Uh huh."
Bell rings.
And again. Handout the syllabus. Yes, there is a lab fee. No, there isn't a final exam. Please settle down.
And again. Handout the syllabus. Yes, there is a lab fee. No, there isn't a final exam. Please settle down.
When she checks back in after school, he's standing on top of his desk covering a giant piece of chicken wire with paper mache.
"Hey, Mose."
"Hello, Pam."
"What are you doing?"
"A project."
"Fun." She picks up a figurine off his desk. It's a scale replica of the David. "Where'd you get this?"
"I made it. Please don't touch it. I didn't have enough time during my prep to fire it."
She puts it down gently on his desk. "You made that today?"
"Uh huh."
"It's really good."
"Thank you. Pam, will you be my friend?"
"What?"
"Dwight told me that I should make friends. I would like you to be my first friend."
"You've never had any friends before?"
"Dwight is my best friend but he says that doesn't count because we are related and he has to put up with me. Dwight also said it would be advantageous to make friends within the department so we can form an alliance in case they want to get rid of us."
"That's smart."
"So will you be my friend?"
"Yes. I will."
"Good."
"Mose, it's time to go," Dwight says from the doorway. "Hello, Pam. Which Nazi general was born in Prussia? Was it A, General—"
"Pam and I are friends now, Dwight."
"Fantastic! Shall we take her to the farm and show her the slaughterhouse?"
"I think I'll pass on that today."
"Okay. Goodbye, Pam."
"Goodbye, Mose."
She stares a the eight foot tall sculpture. It drips glue on the floor. It makes her strangely happy. She sighs and turns off the lights.
One day down, one hundred and eighty-one to go.