Chapter One: A Typical Day Plus Some

"While we are free to choose our actions, we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions" – Stephen R. Covey

I hate seventh period, I thought to myself as I sighed heavily and plopped myself back into my leather rolling chair. I ran my hand of the cool, smooth surface of the arm and frowned. By the time students got to seventh period, they were ready to go off and do teenager things (I would pretend that I didn't know about any of those activities lest I feel the urge to turn them into the police), they were sleepy because it was after lunch, and they were irritable since they had just went through a whole day of their senseless teenage drama. They were undoubtedly the worst class of the whole day and I never found myself looking forward to it in my eight years of teaching.

One or two students crept into the room before the warning bell. They were my favorites of my seventh period. They were all quiet, studied and made A's in my class. They respected my authority as a teacher, and didn't act up either. By the time that the warning bell rang, they were halfway done with the bell work I had written upon the board. That was also the time when all of the other students started to rush into the classroom and blocked the board from view. I saw them craning their necks to try and see, even if they were at the front of the room.

When everyone settled down, I got up from my chair and waited. Everyone, except the first few students, was just now starting to copy the bell work. "Dammit," I cursed lowly under my breath, "Bloody American children don't know how to do anything right." When everybody was finished, I started on my lesson. "Today, we we're going to be starting Macbeth by Shakespeare. Has anyone ever read this before?" I asked.

I swore that I heard a cricket chirp with the strong silence that greeted me, even though I knew that one of them had read it before. One of them had to. It was a great classic, one that had lasted throughout the ages. "Come on, People. Don't any of you read?" I asked, greeted yet again by silence. This is why I loathed seventh period. They were so frustrating! I wanted to rip my hair from my skull.

My thoughts were interrupted by slight snoring. My eyes narrowed to the back of the room. The three stooges were all asleep. I walked back to my desk and picked up my teacher's edition of their textbook, which weighed a ton. I could barely pick it up myself. I stood in front of them and raised the book above my head just to let it drop to the hard tile floor.

BAM!

All of their heads flung up to look at me. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. "Mind explaining, Boys?" I mused, glaring at them. Of course, they were used to this. Well, their leader was anyways. Alfred F. Jones fell asleep in my class every single bloody day since the beginning of the school year. It was the last week of the second six weeks.

"We were just sleeping, Dude. Chill." Alfred spoke, sleep lining his words as he yawned and put back on his glasses. Simon and Gilbert smirked at him and gave him a pat on the back in approval. I glared to them and they quit, sliding back into their seats.

"First off, Mr. Jones, you shall address me as Mr. Kirkland, not 'Dude'. Second off, there is no excuse for sleeping in class. Especially when it is so close to the end of school. Now, let's hear the excuse." I said, waiting above him. Alfred didn't say anything though. It was clear that he was stalling for time, trying to come up with a viable excuse. "Well, we're waiting."

"Football season is really hard. Coach just keeps pushing us and pushing us, Dude. Isn't that right, Simon?"

"Yeah, Mr. Kirkland, Alfred benched over three hundred pounds today. It was amazing." Simon chimed in. Gilbert couldn't say anything. He wasn't on the football team, so he remained quiet.

I thought for a moment. Over three hundred pounds? That's amazing, but still not an excuse. "A very impressive accomplishment, Mr. Jones, but if you get offered a scholarship, it won't be of any use because if you keep failing my class, your GPA will drop below the average required for a decent school. Now, stay awake." I chided before getting back to my lecture.

By the end of class, he had taken his glasses off and was back to deep sleep. His friends woke him up just as the bell was ringing, and he was out of the classroom before I could talk to him. I sighed and sat back down, facing my computer. What to do about this sleeping problem…

An idea popped into my head and I sat up straight, slightly hunching over my computer. I pulled up Alfred's files on my computer and searched through them. It took a couple of hours to find really anything I didn't already know. It turns out that Alfred was only failing my class, and was making C's and below in other classes. I pulled up the boy's schedule. Before he came to my class, he had weightlifting. Maybe that was why he kept falling asleep; maybe he was tired from lifting so much weight.

"Alfred benched over three hundred pounds today. It was amazing."

Simon's words echoed quietly through my head. Hmm, I thought, contemplating. Alfred had to do weightlifting for football. It was required. The only other weightlifting class was first period. He didn't want Alfred falling asleep for all of his classes though, and he knew that the school board wouldn't change the whole weightlifting schedule for just one child. He pulled up the rest of the football player's grades. They were all fine. A's and B's galore actually. So then why was Alfred making C's and below? Very curious, indeed… Time to pay a visit to the football coach.

I logged off my computer and walked briskly down to the coach's office. He wasn't there so I jogged to the football field. The smell of sweat and hormones hit me like a pile of bricks and I almost gagged as the entire football team rushed past me to get to the showers. I pushed through though and ran out onto the football field where the coach was cleaning up. Alfred was helping him? I found it peculiar. Usually, football players ran with their crowd at all times. They never stayed behind to help clean up before. I shrugged it off.

"Oi, Ludwig! You got some time for your boy, there?" I called, jogging up to him. I heard Alfred sigh in frustration and mutter something under his breath as I approached them.

"Ja, vat is it?" he asked, crossing his arms across his muscular chest and looking down on me. I didn't let this fool me though. We went out drinking a couple of nights a week, so we were good friends. He just didn't want Alfred to see him act friendly to a weakling.

"Alfred here is failing my class and I was wondering if he could come to after and before school tutoring to get his grades up so that he can stay on the football team."

Ludwig's face went dark as he looked to Alfred. "Vat? I thought you told me that you picked that grade up, Jones? I ought to-"

I got in the middle of them. "Now, children, this is no way to act. We can be civilized about this. If Alfred come and studies with me before school and after practice, then I will count that as grade recovery and he'll make at least a D. Do we have a deal?" I asked as I looked to both of them. Alfred hesitated, but Ludwig answered for him.

"Ja. He'll do it, or he'll be kicked off." He said, looking to Alfred as the kid crossed his arms, and pouted slightly.

"Whatever. I'll do it for football." Alfred said, jogging off to go join his comrades in the showers. I sighed. "Thank you. I'll be heading back now. Tell him that it starts Monday morning at 7:45 a.m. please." Ludwig nodded and resumed cleaning the football field.

Little did I know, as I walked away, that that nod had sealed my fate.