Author's note: Hi everyone!! Wow, it's been a really really long time. Arg, please excuse the rust. I was just kicking back, rocking in my chair listening to Linda Ronstadt and I thought something seems to be missing. But then of course I knew what it was. Then I thought of you readers and of fan fiction. I thought maybe I better write something :) Well, so yep here I am. No idea what I'm going to write next...none. Noone. Well I've got my title at least (see below-, ignore that this arrow goes the wrong way heh) About the title, I think it's quite nice. In Experience is the Teacher, Dimitri told Grace he couldn't help it. Joyfully, neither can I. Mr.Dimitri is just so cool. Like a river flows, so to does Dimitrilove flow. Always. All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small -somehow we can link Dimitri to them all....
Okay well now I've written my chapter and I'm back! (please excuse the lack of continuity here in this intro and be thankful you hopefuly don't have my weird brain..) I'm not sure what I think of this chapter but it is definitely groundwork for ones to come. I have this weekend off from work so any ideas for this story get them on my desk (email- jeanl2@sympatico.ca) by say Saturday and I will see what I can do. In case you missed that, it was me crying for help. Please review. Help. Helpp. This man is too much for me I think. One idea I had was that we really should see some of his poetry sometime soon. What do you think?
"some say the heart is just like a wheel
when you bend it you can't mend it
but my love for you is like a sinking ship
and my heart is on that ship out in midocean.."
LINDA RONSTADT
I CAN'T HELP IT (IF I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU)
Mr.Dimitri walked holding his briefcase and sighed. This was it. It. The big one. Jesus were people actually staring at him? No it was indeed not a figment of his constrained imagination. That kid in the green jacket just did a double take. August ran his fingers through his hair smoothing it in places -at least he thought he was smoothing, but possibly the effect was to give him a more tousled look which was more what actually happened. He smiled a small smile to Emily, he recognized her from his English Literature class last year. She had been a sophmore, not in Grace's class. Nice kid, played the drums he remembered. Emily said brightly, "Hi Mr.Dimitri!". He smiled again. She had done percussion for the introduction to 'As You Like It'. That mood setting music he had used at the beginning. Dimitri remembered when he had showed her the beat he wanted on the piano that was kept backstage. He never could play the drums. Drums were best left to Phil Collins or someone bent with that particular inclination. She had even worn a beret for him. She seemed transfixed to see him, maybe even blinking- actually almost winking it looked a little like. He gunned it up the stairs.
If he just kept moving the safety and sanctity of the classroom would he is. His classroom. It was a weird thought that; 'his classroom' and that thought being one he hadn't ever though he would have again. Not in even his remotest plans had he believed he would return to this particular school. It was astounding. He started to smile, it was just really weird. He hadn't been a substitute since his early days teaching, that first year of scattered placements. His classroom was on the second floor, a different end of the school from his own room. Yes, it still persisted the thought that he had a room. He had gone past it on his way to this temporary set up and looked inside as he passed. The new occupant had changed the posters-wall hangings, desk placement but not much else had changed. The windows still shone the same amount of light and the chalk board seemed to be missing something. His writing. His handwriting. And Grace was not at her desk.
He scanned the stacks of novels, picking up one and opening another off the shelves that were along the wall in this other room. MacBeth. Hmmm. King Lear. He looked over the items on the teacher's desk. Mrs. Dinnis. He tried the name with the "Mrs." outloud. It was always interesting to know exactly who you were replacing. She had large, vague handwriting. She seemed to ask for an essay. August already knew though he had no intention of asking these students for the essay she was looking for. The class started to enter as he was writing on the board. He always liked to add something that would make them realize he was there for them, not just the curriculum. One of his favorites worked for this particular class so he started to write it up. In the top right hand corner in caps, "These poets are dead but..". He liked to vary the but.
~***************************
He had got the call from Brooker around seven in the morning asking if he was free. First class would be second period and then he would have a class every interval following that. Yes, that had been fine. He knew where Grace's locker was, or at least where it had been. Did they actually assign those things by the year or for your entire life in highschool? It wasn't something a teacher really spent a great deal of time in thought about. It seemed to be the latter. Grace turned the corner and spotted him farther along down the hall. He was standing near the door of a classroom and reading a flyer on the bulletin board. He wasn't really reading. She sort of blinked too. But it was different than Emily's blink and it was okay. She seemed to be heading for the library. Calculating there was enough time, like a smooth operator he went down the stairs in pursuit. Dimitri chipped a "hello" to the librarian and moved along the upper area with the cubicles. Obviously she was somewhere. He wished this could have been worked out a little better. A plan or something could have been of use.
"Grace."
"August! What are you-"
"I know, I was summoned this morning [with mocking then again normal..] and I didn't have a chance to call you. You would have already been headed--", he paused. Grace completed the thought, "For school."
"Exactly."
"So-" Grace smiled at him.
"So."
Grace started to ramble, "Okay, maybe it's just me but this is starting to freak me out." She started to look around as Dimitri started to laugh.
"Freaking right along with you Grace." There was a momentary nothingness, stillness and it said all that was ever needed. He lowered his eyes and reached out touching her arm gently and platonically.
Grace had stopped as if frozen and placed her hand to her mouth, mumbling. "I just never expected. [she stopped to clarify herself better, he had that trying to understand look on his face. He actually looked quite priceless when he was baffled, in thought. That look. ] I mean I knew it was going to happen, I knew that. But I never quite pictured it if you know what I mean. I never though I'd see it myself, you back. You back here." Grace sounded angry. He thought he knew why.
Dimitri brushed a stray hair from her lovely lovely face. She looked flushed, he hadn't noticed it that night when she asked to share his wine, put her hand over his and he had felt his life had flashed before his eyes - at least the three months before that moment flashed with alarming rapidity. Now he knew what it looked like. Lily had said she looked flushed, but he himself hadn't remarked on it particularly. He had just been startled by her features suddenly in that moment. She had been flushed when he talked about not being friends too. She was rosy now. It was unbelievably cute. August was more shocked to realize he had just thought the word, "cute" then anything else. Grown men didn't think cute did they? Did it even matter. Cute was for puppies.
"I have to go-", he started gently.
"I know." she nodded. Then pushed him.
~***************************
He hadn't written a poem in, well it was just too long. He hadn't really wanted to. There had been some half hearted sloppy stuff after his seperation from Grace, but not anything worth seeing by anyone. Least of all Grace or anyone she knew. Or he knew. But of course he had still kept it. Mind boggling that. Writing was methodical, you just sat down and started. It was fluent, it had its own soul and heart. It almost breathed. It almost, but not quiet, shuddered. In a really good way. Now he wanted to write something. Not just anything, something good and to be proud of. He looked up, a few heads were bent down working. Others were talking amongst themselves. He caught stray words here and there but nothing stood out. He had to be alone to write his poetry, it didn't behoof artistic creation or temperament to write it with other people around watching him. Almost lunch.
The staffroom smelled like coffee and fetticini maybe. As suspected someone had something questionable in the microwave as he passed by. Coffee would be good now. It wasn't a favorite drink exactly but it lent to bonding, comfort and ease. Good things when you were precariously clinging to your hold on things. A few teachers were grouped in the corner looking over papers. August wondered what the papers were for. He caught the reflected image of himself in a mirror over by the metal closet that was used for coats if you didn't want to take yours to class (he did). Wow. It didn't even look like the same person. Well, ok clearly it was but again it just wasn't. He touched his hair again. Grace had made him cut it. It did look good, she had later said it would "grow back". And the suit. It had been part of his plan. The diabolical plan of school domination. He had vanished so perfectly that he had felt since he was now coming back something was needed. To take the school by storm seemed to be the ticket. Grace again had played a part. After it was official he was returning they went shopping and he got a kick out their day picking out his new wardrobe. She wanted trousers -had actually used that word making him laugh, certainly much better than dress pants, slacks, mearly pants. Today he was wearing a dark chocolate suit and light blue shirt. A navy tie with pattern completed the look. It was like that was one of those pretty boys in GQ. It was sort of ok to feel pretty. He had always had the right clothes but it was rare you had anywhere to wear the things to. The other day he and Grace had gone to Booklovers, he had been wearing jeans and a ball cap. Judy had almost choked on something. Later Grace told him it was because Judy hadn't recognized him, she had thought Grace was there with someone else. In passing he wondered if Judy had though he was Eli. He sat in an arm chair in the corner with his coffee and watched the other teachers take their turns watching him. Among the grey suits and skirts, colleagues would surface to chat here and there. "Yes substituting." he answered. "Next fall." "I hadn't thought about the drama club." "No one asked yet but I wouldn't see a problem." "It was really sunny there." "I can't believe they did that."
~****************************
He closed the light to the classroom and half shut the door. He only paused a fraction of a second with the door and started to move up the hall towards the stairs, zipping up the front of his coat as he moved along. Down a side corridor he noticed another teacher also leaving. He wasn't even thinking it was just pure mechanics. Walk. Down the hall. It had just been so much like a dream. And now it was over just like that.
"~~a picture from the past came slowly stealing
as I blushed your arm and stood so close to you
suddenly I got that old time feeling
I can't help it if I'm still in love with you.."
Okay well now I've written my chapter and I'm back! (please excuse the lack of continuity here in this intro and be thankful you hopefuly don't have my weird brain..) I'm not sure what I think of this chapter but it is definitely groundwork for ones to come. I have this weekend off from work so any ideas for this story get them on my desk (email- jeanl2@sympatico.ca) by say Saturday and I will see what I can do. In case you missed that, it was me crying for help. Please review. Help. Helpp. This man is too much for me I think. One idea I had was that we really should see some of his poetry sometime soon. What do you think?
"some say the heart is just like a wheel
when you bend it you can't mend it
but my love for you is like a sinking ship
and my heart is on that ship out in midocean.."
LINDA RONSTADT
I CAN'T HELP IT (IF I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU)
Mr.Dimitri walked holding his briefcase and sighed. This was it. It. The big one. Jesus were people actually staring at him? No it was indeed not a figment of his constrained imagination. That kid in the green jacket just did a double take. August ran his fingers through his hair smoothing it in places -at least he thought he was smoothing, but possibly the effect was to give him a more tousled look which was more what actually happened. He smiled a small smile to Emily, he recognized her from his English Literature class last year. She had been a sophmore, not in Grace's class. Nice kid, played the drums he remembered. Emily said brightly, "Hi Mr.Dimitri!". He smiled again. She had done percussion for the introduction to 'As You Like It'. That mood setting music he had used at the beginning. Dimitri remembered when he had showed her the beat he wanted on the piano that was kept backstage. He never could play the drums. Drums were best left to Phil Collins or someone bent with that particular inclination. She had even worn a beret for him. She seemed transfixed to see him, maybe even blinking- actually almost winking it looked a little like. He gunned it up the stairs.
If he just kept moving the safety and sanctity of the classroom would he is. His classroom. It was a weird thought that; 'his classroom' and that thought being one he hadn't ever though he would have again. Not in even his remotest plans had he believed he would return to this particular school. It was astounding. He started to smile, it was just really weird. He hadn't been a substitute since his early days teaching, that first year of scattered placements. His classroom was on the second floor, a different end of the school from his own room. Yes, it still persisted the thought that he had a room. He had gone past it on his way to this temporary set up and looked inside as he passed. The new occupant had changed the posters-wall hangings, desk placement but not much else had changed. The windows still shone the same amount of light and the chalk board seemed to be missing something. His writing. His handwriting. And Grace was not at her desk.
He scanned the stacks of novels, picking up one and opening another off the shelves that were along the wall in this other room. MacBeth. Hmmm. King Lear. He looked over the items on the teacher's desk. Mrs. Dinnis. He tried the name with the "Mrs." outloud. It was always interesting to know exactly who you were replacing. She had large, vague handwriting. She seemed to ask for an essay. August already knew though he had no intention of asking these students for the essay she was looking for. The class started to enter as he was writing on the board. He always liked to add something that would make them realize he was there for them, not just the curriculum. One of his favorites worked for this particular class so he started to write it up. In the top right hand corner in caps, "These poets are dead but..". He liked to vary the but.
~***************************
He had got the call from Brooker around seven in the morning asking if he was free. First class would be second period and then he would have a class every interval following that. Yes, that had been fine. He knew where Grace's locker was, or at least where it had been. Did they actually assign those things by the year or for your entire life in highschool? It wasn't something a teacher really spent a great deal of time in thought about. It seemed to be the latter. Grace turned the corner and spotted him farther along down the hall. He was standing near the door of a classroom and reading a flyer on the bulletin board. He wasn't really reading. She sort of blinked too. But it was different than Emily's blink and it was okay. She seemed to be heading for the library. Calculating there was enough time, like a smooth operator he went down the stairs in pursuit. Dimitri chipped a "hello" to the librarian and moved along the upper area with the cubicles. Obviously she was somewhere. He wished this could have been worked out a little better. A plan or something could have been of use.
"Grace."
"August! What are you-"
"I know, I was summoned this morning [with mocking then again normal..] and I didn't have a chance to call you. You would have already been headed--", he paused. Grace completed the thought, "For school."
"Exactly."
"So-" Grace smiled at him.
"So."
Grace started to ramble, "Okay, maybe it's just me but this is starting to freak me out." She started to look around as Dimitri started to laugh.
"Freaking right along with you Grace." There was a momentary nothingness, stillness and it said all that was ever needed. He lowered his eyes and reached out touching her arm gently and platonically.
Grace had stopped as if frozen and placed her hand to her mouth, mumbling. "I just never expected. [she stopped to clarify herself better, he had that trying to understand look on his face. He actually looked quite priceless when he was baffled, in thought. That look. ] I mean I knew it was going to happen, I knew that. But I never quite pictured it if you know what I mean. I never though I'd see it myself, you back. You back here." Grace sounded angry. He thought he knew why.
Dimitri brushed a stray hair from her lovely lovely face. She looked flushed, he hadn't noticed it that night when she asked to share his wine, put her hand over his and he had felt his life had flashed before his eyes - at least the three months before that moment flashed with alarming rapidity. Now he knew what it looked like. Lily had said she looked flushed, but he himself hadn't remarked on it particularly. He had just been startled by her features suddenly in that moment. She had been flushed when he talked about not being friends too. She was rosy now. It was unbelievably cute. August was more shocked to realize he had just thought the word, "cute" then anything else. Grown men didn't think cute did they? Did it even matter. Cute was for puppies.
"I have to go-", he started gently.
"I know." she nodded. Then pushed him.
~***************************
He hadn't written a poem in, well it was just too long. He hadn't really wanted to. There had been some half hearted sloppy stuff after his seperation from Grace, but not anything worth seeing by anyone. Least of all Grace or anyone she knew. Or he knew. But of course he had still kept it. Mind boggling that. Writing was methodical, you just sat down and started. It was fluent, it had its own soul and heart. It almost breathed. It almost, but not quiet, shuddered. In a really good way. Now he wanted to write something. Not just anything, something good and to be proud of. He looked up, a few heads were bent down working. Others were talking amongst themselves. He caught stray words here and there but nothing stood out. He had to be alone to write his poetry, it didn't behoof artistic creation or temperament to write it with other people around watching him. Almost lunch.
The staffroom smelled like coffee and fetticini maybe. As suspected someone had something questionable in the microwave as he passed by. Coffee would be good now. It wasn't a favorite drink exactly but it lent to bonding, comfort and ease. Good things when you were precariously clinging to your hold on things. A few teachers were grouped in the corner looking over papers. August wondered what the papers were for. He caught the reflected image of himself in a mirror over by the metal closet that was used for coats if you didn't want to take yours to class (he did). Wow. It didn't even look like the same person. Well, ok clearly it was but again it just wasn't. He touched his hair again. Grace had made him cut it. It did look good, she had later said it would "grow back". And the suit. It had been part of his plan. The diabolical plan of school domination. He had vanished so perfectly that he had felt since he was now coming back something was needed. To take the school by storm seemed to be the ticket. Grace again had played a part. After it was official he was returning they went shopping and he got a kick out their day picking out his new wardrobe. She wanted trousers -had actually used that word making him laugh, certainly much better than dress pants, slacks, mearly pants. Today he was wearing a dark chocolate suit and light blue shirt. A navy tie with pattern completed the look. It was like that was one of those pretty boys in GQ. It was sort of ok to feel pretty. He had always had the right clothes but it was rare you had anywhere to wear the things to. The other day he and Grace had gone to Booklovers, he had been wearing jeans and a ball cap. Judy had almost choked on something. Later Grace told him it was because Judy hadn't recognized him, she had thought Grace was there with someone else. In passing he wondered if Judy had though he was Eli. He sat in an arm chair in the corner with his coffee and watched the other teachers take their turns watching him. Among the grey suits and skirts, colleagues would surface to chat here and there. "Yes substituting." he answered. "Next fall." "I hadn't thought about the drama club." "No one asked yet but I wouldn't see a problem." "It was really sunny there." "I can't believe they did that."
~****************************
He closed the light to the classroom and half shut the door. He only paused a fraction of a second with the door and started to move up the hall towards the stairs, zipping up the front of his coat as he moved along. Down a side corridor he noticed another teacher also leaving. He wasn't even thinking it was just pure mechanics. Walk. Down the hall. It had just been so much like a dream. And now it was over just like that.
"~~a picture from the past came slowly stealing
as I blushed your arm and stood so close to you
suddenly I got that old time feeling
I can't help it if I'm still in love with you.."