AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for jeanyoo1. Basic plot premise was their idea. TRIGGER WARNING for later chapters containing attempted rape.
Another day, another five cents. That's what Ms. Regina Mills had to tell herself to get out of bed every weekday morning. It wasn't exactly the most motivating mantra, but it worked. Not that she was doing it for the money. Obviously, she wasn't. Had she chosen her career path based on a desire for financial gain, she would have been a lawyer, or a businesswoman. She was certainly smart enough. But that wasn't the case. Regina had always had a desire to help others, and she had decided that the best way to do this, based on her own skill set, was to use her plentiful academic knowledge and experience to teach others. Her parents had heavily discouraged her from this career path, but her desire and confidence in her decision had been steadfast.
Now, every day she doubted herself and her own abilities. Of course, she would never tell her parents this. Every report back to them consisted of statements such as, 'The kids are great,' 'They really like me,' and 'I'm doing great.' All blatant lies. In fact, her situation was quite the opposite. The kids were horrible, they hated her, and she was doing quite poorly. Each day was a battle with herself, and with her students, who seemed unwilling to cooperate under any circumstances, regardless of her approach.
I at least have to try, she reminded herself every weekday as she prepared herself for work. First, after getting up around four-thirty, she showered, spending an extended amount of time beneath the hot water as she tried to relax her quickly tensing muscles. Her body seized up and rebelled in protest every day she had to return to her chaotic classroom, but she ignored the objections and pushed herself through her morning routine. She took her time getting ready – it was the only time she would have to herself for the remainder of the day – but still managed to look… well… less than fashion-forward.
One of Regina's drawbacks was that she had absolutely no sense of fashion or making the best of her own physical appearance. Though her body was toned and fit, no one would ever know, based on the dresses she wore to work (and even on her days off). They were less than flattering, in multiple ways, but even though she'd been ridiculed for this since elementary school, she'd never really had anyone to help her learn any other way of dressing. She simply wasn't good at fitting in. Whenever she tried – which she'd recently given up on – she failed and ended up looking worse. Hence, she stopped trying.
Makeup was a non-issue, in the sense that she wore none. Again, whenever she'd tried, she'd ended up looking worse, which only ended in the ridicule of her classmates when she was younger. By the time she graduated college, she'd thrown away every cosmetic item she owned. Now that she was a teacher, though the scorn of the students she taught caused her invisible scars she couldn't escape, she still refused to attempt a personal makeover again, knowing full well what the result would be. Instead, she tried to tell herself that her appearance didn't matter, as long as she was good at her job.
Therein lied the problem. Every day, the disrespect of her students constantly imprinted her brain with the idea that she was a horrible teacher, and that she should probably change careers. But she'd committed. She'd spend thousands on schooling in preparing for this job, and fought her parents tooth and nail the entire way. There was no way she was giving up now. There was more shame in quitting than failing, and she was already burdened with too much shame to add any more to her already-growing collection.
That being the case, she forced herself through the rest of her morning routine as she argued and threatened herself with anything she could think of so that she wouldn't cry.
"Stop it," she scolded herself. "You're a grown woman. They're younger than you. You're in charge. You're-"
But her motivation quickly wilted as she put her glasses on and looked in the mirror.
"God, I'm hideous," she sighed heavily, tearing her eyes away from the familiar figure in the looking glass.
But this wasn't true. In fact, beneath her clothing and glasses, her figure was accentuated with curves and smooth skin, and her face was that of a Greek goddess. Unintentionally, Regina hid this fact that she was unaware of every day when she got dressed in her less-than-flattering clothes and round, thick-rimmed glasses. In any case, Regina was oblivious to her own beauty, and as such, no one else saw it either.
Once she'd eaten a meal of a small cup of fruit and yogurt, she gathered her scratchy, gray, over-sized jacket and left her apartment. During her trip on the T, Boston's subway system, she plugged her ears with a pair of cheap headphones to drown out the muttering and whispering around her. While she stood, holding onto the railing so as not to fall, she stared at her feet, in order to avoid the judgmental gazes of those around her. The music was the only thing that calmed her anxiety. Once she reached her stop, she sighed, stepped off the train, and took her headphones out of her ears. After placing them carefully in their case and putting them away in her briefcase, she made her way down the sidewalk toward her workplace.
The academic establishment was an alternative school for young adults with behavioral difficulties. Originally, Regina was excited about this. It was her very first job out of school, and what better way to use her talents than to help troubled kids succeed in school? Maybe, she hoped, she could help some of them get into college. Though Massachusetts has some of the highest rates of college enrollment among individuals aged eighteen to twenty-four, students from this particular school had alarmingly low rates of students who went on to college, and Ms. Mills had hoped to assist in bringing this number up and building self-confident in the students in her classroom. Unfortunately, this was a short-lived dream.
None of her students were receptive to any of her advice or even her instructions in the classroom. In fact, they were downright defiant. At least one student per class period was sent to the principal's office, but no matter how many times any given student was sent out of the classroom or given detention, there was no change in behavior. It even seemed to be getting worse. She sensed their resentment as they sat in their seats (or on their desks) glaring or laughing at her as she stood at the front of the room, trying to write notes on the chalkboard.
On this particular day, three students in her class of all seniors were throwing paper airplanes, two were sitting on their desks talking to each other, two in the back were groping each other, two were fighting, and the rest were ignoring her.
"Guys, come on!" the teacher pleaded. "Please just quiet down. I really don't care if you want to sit on your desks. Just please listen."
This earned a wave of roaring laughter throughout the classroom, which was so loud that it caught the attention of the principal, who happened to be walking past the room. When he heard the sound, he poked his head into the room and looked accusingly at the woman standing at the front.
"Ms. Mills, what is the meaning of this ruckus?"
"Mr. Otterson, I-"
"I'd like to speak to you in the hallway, please," he said firmly, earning another eruption of howling laughter from the entire class.
After following him into the hallway and shutting the classroom door behind her, Regina protested, "Mr. Otterson, they… I was just-"
"This kind of behavior is unacceptable at this school, Mr. Mills, and it should not be tolerated. Allowing this kind of dissent is absolutely deplorable. Being soft with these pupils will only exasperate their current personal and behavioral difficulties."
"But I-!"
"Is that clear, Ms. Mills?"
"I-"
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, please, go get your classroom under control."
With a heavy sigh, the teacher nodded her head and waited for him to disappear around the corner of the hallway before leaning back against the wall and shutting her eyes. Once she'd gathered herself, she turned and re-entered the classroom. Sucking in one last deep breath, she picked up her textbook and slammed it back down on the desk, full-force.
"ENOUGH!" she screamed, giving them her sternest glare from behind her spectacles. "I want complete and total silence in this room or I will send every one of you to the principal's office. Is that understood?"
Again, the whole classroom laughed collectively and shook their heads.
One student spoke up to taunt her, saying, "I'd like to see you try that."
"That's enough!"
"Your threats are really not intimidating, Regina," one boy challenged her with a sly smirk.
"You will call me Ms. Mills, Killian. That is non-negotiable," she countered, but the boy just laughed and playfully shoved his friend's shoulder.
"You're hilarious, Regina," the other brown-haired boy told her.
"Robin! You are completely out of line!"
"Yeah, yeah, Regina. What are you going to do about it?" he countered.
"I want the three of you of you to go to the principal's office, and if you come to class tomorrow without your homework completed, you'll be written up and sent to detention."
"Yeah, whatever," Killian chuckled, grabbed his backpack, which was empty except for the small stash of drugs and a few knives, and left the classroom.
His friends followed him out, but the whole class could hear their laughter, even after the door was closed and they were halfway down the hallway. Later, Regina found out that the three of them had simply left the building. They were also not present in class the next day. Knowing exactly why – their desire to challenge her and assert their control over her – the teacher didn't bother to ask her students why they were absent. Instead, she continued her lesson. Surprisingly, there was little commotion in the classroom that day, probably given that the leaders of their opposition were not in attendance.
Still, it wasn't quiet, and it was difficult for Regina to teach that way. It only went silent when she asked a question about their assigned reading. Finally, she decided to ask one of the students to answer directly.
"Danielle?" she addressed the student. "Why do you think Holden left school?"
"Because school fucking blows?" the girl laughed, rolling her eyes at the teacher.
"Did you even read the passage?" Regina sighed, looking disappointed.
"Hell no. Why the fuck would I read some piece of trash by some stuck-up writer?"
"Danielle. He-"
"I think Holden left school because he felt rejected, awkward, and out of place," a blonde in the very last row of desks spoke up, staring at the teacher with stony eyes. When the classroom went completely silent and the teacher started to smile, though, she quickly added, "Kind of like you should."
The smile quickly fell from Regina's face as she pushed a shaking hand roughly through her hair and replied, "Emma, that was completely inappropriate. I really don't want to ask you to leave, so please keep that kind of commentary to yourself. That being said, I very much appreciate your input on the subject and I'm glad to hear that you've read."
The entire class was staring at the blonde accusingly, surely wondering why this almost-kiss-ass was sucking up to the teacher (before abruptly making a rude comment that nearly negated the contribution).
"I, uh…" Emma started, looking frantically around the classroom at the numerous sets of eyes glued to her. "I just spark-noted it. I'd never read for this bullshit class."
"Alright," Regina sighed, nodding her head. "Fair enough. Did anyone read?" The older brunette looked pleadingly around the classroom, then added, "Anyone?"
All of them laughed, and no one nodded in response to the question, so Regina's fists automatically clenched in frustration. She wanted to throw one of the books on her desk at every single one of them. Including the three who weren't present. She wanted to throttle them for their insolence and disrespect. But the other part of her was desperate to reach them. To help them, in any way possible.
"Guys," she finally said. "Is there anything I can do to get you guys to read? I really don't want to fail any of you. I want you all to do well."
"Yeah, right," a student sitting directly in the middle of the class answered. "In your dreams, Teach.'"
"Really, guys. I'll do anything."
"Give Killian a blow-job in front of the entire class, and maybe we'll consider it," one of the boys joked with a grin.
"Principal's office. Now."
The boy shook his head, leaned back, and put his feet up on the desk.
"I said now!" Regina shouted, slamming a book down on her own desk. "Get out."
With a shrug, the boy left the room, finally leaving the entire class silent.
"Right. Where were we? That's right. Catcher in the Rye. Open your books to page twenty-seven please."
Lazily, two or three of them opened their books – probably not to page twenty-seven – but the rest of them sat still, just staring at her blankly.
"Don't you have your books?" the teacher asked, exasperated.
"Nope," one girl told her. "Why would we?"
"Because this is an English class, and you were supposed to read the passage from it for homework!"
"What makes you think we give a shit about your stupid class?"
"Look, I know you guys don't want to be here. I totally get that. I was where you are once too, but-"
"Yeah, right," one of the boys taunted her. "You were a goody-goody teacher's pet who probably sucked off your professors just to pass."
"Guys, come on! Can we just get through this book, please?"
"None of us give any fucks about this class," another girl chimed in.
"What do I have to do to get you to read?" the teacher repeated, more desperately this time. "Just tell me what I have to do. I just want you all to do well in this class."
"Then just give us As and pretend like we passed all your stupid tests."
"They'd fire me for that."
"Good."
Regina sighed and was about to respond when the bell rang for the next class period. The students stood up immediately and hurried to shove each other out the door. The last boy to leave made sure to kick over two of the chairs in the front row and one of the desks, sending them flying across the room with a crash, leaving Regina alone in the classroom to pick up the mess before the next of her three classes, which were all equally as disrespectful.
