AN:
Have any of you seen Matthew Perry's movie Ron Clark? You can watch it full on Youtube. I just want to point out that in this chapter there is a rewrite of a scene from that movie that I just fell in love with and couldn't resist.
Kids have made up stories about this place. Is it a chamber where they keep the misbehaved or an area where they give out free ice cream as you jump in a pool full of squishy balls? Fortunately, it's neither nor; at least, this teachers lounge is nothing of the sorts.
In fact, it's as big as a walk-in closet. The constantly stocked fridge sits in the corner where foam cups and a box of plastic silverware lay on top. A single counter top holds a 50 year old microwave that beeps four times no matter when you open the door to gather your heated food. The table sits seven but should only sit five as the chairs are lapping each other while pushed in. When everyone is on break at the same time it's hard to walk around as others are seated. Which is why I find it easier to heat up my leftovers and bring it back to my desk.
Thankfully, when I enter the lounge only one other teacher is in there. We exchange a small greeting as I move towards the fridge to get my lunch box I placed in there this morning. While some teachers bring a perfectly made sandwich, an apple, some chips and a water, my lunch only contains an orange and some leftover meatloaf my mother slipped in my bag of goodies a few days ago.
Breaking open the cold food, I leave it in the container as I place it in the microwave and press 1. It does it's own thing and begins heating it up for a minute while I reach above the fridge to grab a fork and knife. "How's your day going Cassandra?" I ask, while she sits there all alone grading last weeks test.
"Nothing to complain about." She smiles, glancing up for a split second before going back to her work.
I exchange the same expression and pull out my small flip phone "That's good." I comment, distracted as I see I received a miss call from my mother at 9 a.m.
Rolling my eyes I dial her number back and wait. She knows I'm teaching a class at 9, what is so important that she felt the need to call? The microwave beeps and I place the silverware in my mouth so I could grab my food with a free hand.
Hot! I pull my hand back and wave it in the air to quickly cool the stinging sensation. My mother's voice rings through the receiver and I mumble something incoherently to let her know I'm there. Grabbing a napkin from the table I cup it in my hand and try to get my lunch again.
"Chandler darling, you there? What are you doing?"
Setting the food on the counter I finally take the fork and knife from between my lips.
"Yeah Mom, I'm just making my lunch." I inform her, busy trying to prepare my meal with little time I have before I need to get my kids from recess.
"Did you hit all the food groups? You need to make sure you are eating your greens, Chandler. Don't forget about your salad." She says and I just nod along. It's a little too late to make a salad now.
"Yeah Mom, got it." I shake off her comment "Why did you call earlier? I was in class." I grab my orange and a water from the fridge before taking a seat at the table.
"Oh, yes!" She gasps, like she completely forgot what was so important three hours ago. "As you know the Geller's are having their annual Labor Day barbecue tomorrow." She starts "And I ran into Judy at the market," Her tone changes from high pitched to I've got a juicy secret "And of course she had to invite me. You did date her only daughter after all. What was it, like two yea-"
"Where are you going with this?"
"Well, I just think it'll be nice of you to show up."
Sighing, I put down my fork and grab a napkin "I can't, I have so much going on. I need to catch up on grading-"
"You catch up on grading every week, Dear. Stop handing out so much work."
Ignoring her, I continue "I have PTA meetings tonight and I still need to call around to find two more chaperons for Tuesday's trip. I'm booked." I tell her "Sorry, I'm not going to be able to make it."
There is a pause on the other end of the receiver and I think I've finally got it through her head that Saturday I won't be attending the party.
Her voice is low as she speaks "I've already marked you as my plus one on the invitation." She mutters and I throw my head back in frustration.
There are things mothers do that no one will understand. I get that she wants me to be happy, but I am happy. I have an amazing job, a great apartment, friends that love me, what more could I ask for? Okay, so a girlfriend would be nice. But she's not necessary to accomplish my needs. I can manage just fine without a girl in my life. I do my own laundry and make my own dinners without one. Although sometimes I forget to separate my whites before throwing clothes into the washer and most days it takes hours before my dinner is cooked all the way through... Okay, maybe I do need Monica back in my life.
"I knew it." I can hear my mother gasp on the other end "I'll pick you up at 2." She informs me before hanging up.
My heart stops and my mind is running. I didn't just say that out loud. Now she will never let it go.
I was in love with Monica the day she broke my heart. Who doesn't fall in love with the women that turns down all the star football players for the geek? No one, that's who.
I am not looking forward to this party. Then again, it's not like Monica is going to be there, so what's the harm in going?
As I finish my lunch the only thing I can think about is tomorrow's barbecue. I shouldn't be worried, I've talked to the Geller's since Monica and I broke things off and nothing felt awkward. I did however feel like I was betraying Monica by keeping in contact with her family without her knowledge. But who else had a truck that could help Mr. Geller carry supplies for his new deck?
I like to think of it as smoking. It doesn't quite feel right inhaling, but once you exhale that aching feeling disappears.
What did I do last year to get through this aching feeling when they invited me personally to their barbecue but I declined? Nothing about this feels right. Maybe I'll call Joey and see what he's doing tomorrow night to get out of this barbecue.
Putting my dishes back in my reusable lunch box, I throw away the orange peal and head towards the cafeteria. I need to pick up something before grabbing my class from the playground outside.
Their eyes glance over my desk filled with nothing but chocolate milk cartons.
"Mr. Bing, what are we going to do with all the milk?" James raises his hand asking the question they were all wondering.
"Well," I circle my desk so I'm standing directly in front of them "We are going to play a little game."
Their faces form smiles at the idea. I've hit their weak spot.
"It involves Math." I finish and just like that their smiles drop almost immediately.
Math is their weakest subject and the results of last weeks test weren't the best. Being in the 2nd grade and having so much ahead of them it's only going to get harder; if they are struggling now, it's going to be even uglier next year.
Learning isn't the most entertaining thing to do and repetition doesn't work. Games are what make it easier to remember as they get involved with hands-on activities.
Walking around the class I look at all my students as I explain what is going to happen. "I'm going to write some questions on the board and for every answer you get correct, Mr. Bing will drink one carton of chocolate milk." I tell them, getting a few laughs in response. "If all the milk is off my desk before the final bell rings then Tuesday you don't have to wear your uniforms on the field trip."
Since there are parent teacher conferences tonight the students get out at 1:30 instead of 3 p.m. like any other day. With most of their parents still fighting their full-time job, I have a little over an hour before they start arriving. It's usually during that time that I get all their forms and information I want to go over, together and ready.
Heading back towards the board I grab a piece of chalk and begin the lesson. "Alright, lets start off simple." Drawing a decent size circle on the board I start from the top and fill in the numbers 1-12. "There are two lines on a face clock called hands." I continue to draw the clock "Can anyone tell me what those two hands represent?" I finish and turn to look for raised hands. "Yes, Miles." I point with my chalk
"The minute and hours." He tells me nonchalant
"You are absolutely right. But do you know which is which?"
He slouches back, defeated.
But the war isn't over as Rebecca's hand creeps up.
"Bec?" I ask, hopeful
"The small hand is the hours...and the longer one is the minutes?" I can tell she isn't quite sure but my smile reassures her doubts.
"Very good!" I set down the chalk and walk over to open my first carton of milk. Without any struggle, I guzzle down the container to the last drop before slamming it back down on the desk top. Sighing I turn back to my board "Alright, next question."
Nearly an hour goes by and the board is covered with previous questions and answers as I begin to empty my pockets. Most of the milk cartons are empty, with a few drops here and there. I pull out two nickles, four pennies, and a quarter while announcing it to the class. "How much cents do I have?" I ask, giving them time to count it all up.
One by one hands go up as they finish calculating on their scratch piece of paper. "Shamika?"
"39." She says, confident in her answer as others nod along.
And just like that I'm chugging another.
"Come on, Mr. Bing!" They cheer me on "Go, go, go, go..."
I stop suddenly and hold my stomach as they all go "Ohh..." Bringing the carton away from my lips my cheeks puff out and I think I'm going to be sick. Slowly, I take a step forward "AHHH..." They lean back, knowing what might happen. Taking a short breath, I relax before feeling that aching pain in the pit of my stomach once again.
This can't be good.
Walking through the center aisle of desk, I continue to hold my stomach just praying it all settles down.
"He's going to be sick." One yells and I take another step.
"Blah!" I hunch over and they all burst out laughing as I come up smiling.
It's Friday, a day you look forward to once Sunday ends and Monday begins. It's the last day of the week before your weekend comes. But once that final bell rings I don't get that thrill of excitement as I go home. Not today. I have a few more hours before I see my comfy couch under my butt.
Parent/Teacher conferences can be fun if you both want to be there. Most of the time no one does, though. I enjoy talking to parents about their children and how they've improved this last month. But when it's Friday and 75 degrees outside, I'd rather be in my car blasting the music with all the windows down on the highway. Sitting in a humid room is the last place I want to be.
I get things ready before 3'o'clock rolls around and make sure I have all the paper work I want to go over laid out neatly on my desk. I make sure Waffles is feed and the artwork is hung for all to see before the first set of parents walk in.
I greet everyone just as I did to the person in front of them "Hi, I'm Chandler Bing. I'm glad you could make it." They then sit in their child's desk as I begin going over a few of their exceptional work and what I think we could work on, at home and school, to get their scores ready for the next grade.
With 23 students in the class I only have 20 minutes with each parent that comes in. That's 5 hours of constant talking and charming of the adults that trust me with their kids. If everything goes right and no one goes over their time I'll be out by 8 and home by 8:30. I just hope it ends on a positive note and no one receives negative feedback that could ruin the holiday weekend.
"Are you saying my son is slow?"
Shaking my head I assure them dyscalculis is nothing of the sorts "1 of 10 kids, ages 5-15 are diagnosed with a learning disability." I inform the parents "If you will be willing to get some test done-"
"My boy is not a science experiment." They interrupt
I briefly close my eyes "I'm not saying that Ma'am. I just see him continuing to struggle in the subject. Because of this he is eligible for an IEP testing every year." I pull out a few pamphlet on the topic to give them a better feel of the idea. "It's completely your choice whether you want to enroll your child in a resource program or not." I say "They won't miss out on any of the regular school work I will be offering, nor does it cost you any more than the initial fees."
She glances over at her husband and for a second I believe she is considering it. She looks back at me and sighs softly, taking the form in her hand "And does this take place during the school day or do we have to take time out of our day?"
"No no, this happens here." I am quick to add "We have additional tutors on the staff and a quiet room in the library where the child will bring their school work and get extra help." They continue to look over the form as I keep talking "It's only about an hour out of their day, a couple times a week. Usually the student misses out on extra curricular but their grades will remain the same. If anything, they will increase by a whole letter."
Finally they look up at my anxious eyes before replying with the answer that I hoped for.
And with that, I can go home with a relaxing feeling that I've done my job right.
The night is busy with people lined up all the way outside restaurants waiting on the next free table. The street lights hit my car with a shimmy reflection as I drive by. The road is damp from the passing cloud we had an hour ago. My no longer clean car carries spots around the windshield from sitting outside as it rained.
I was really looking forward to having my windows down but that's kind of hard if I don't want to ruin the interior of my car. A few raindrops escape the clouds and land on my window just where I was looking. Maybe, If I'm lucky, the party will be canceled tomorrow due to the moody atmosphere.
"That reminds me, I need to call Joey." Holding the stirring wheel with one hand, I reach in my back pocket for my cell and flip it open to reveal the keypad.
It rings a few times before he finally answers. "Hey, whaz up?" It sounds like he has a mouth full of food
"Are you eating?" I ask, slowing down as I come to a red light.
He swallows "...I got hungry."
Rolling my eyes, I ask him what he's doing tomorrow.
"I've got two tickets to the Mets game tomorrow." He tells me. I can sense excitement in his voice and a smile on his face.
"Great, I'll go!"
"Sorry man, I already have a date." Joey has a date every Saturday night, why does this not surprise me? "Her name is Felicia, she's British and hot. Am I the luckiest bastard or what?"
Nodding to myself, I press the gas when the light changes to green "Yeah, you're pretty lucky."
There is a slight pause as silence filters between us. Why didn't he tell me he was going to the game sooner? I love the Mets, my jersey is the only thing besides dress shirts hanging in my closet.
"Dude, why do you want to go suddenly? You haven't been to a game in 5 years."
The Mets World Series game was my first date with Monica. It was, and probably still is, one of the best days of my life. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my face.
"So tell me something about yourself." I begin kicking the pebble at my feet as we head towards the gates.
"Well," She clutches her purse at her side as she turns her body towards me than straight ahead again "I'm your college roommate's little sister. I'm sure you already know the deep secrets about my personal life. I think this date will be me getting to know you."
I chuckle "Fair enough. What do you want to know?" My one hand holds my worn out glove as the other is shoved deep into my pocket, gripping the tickets. It's a method I've found myself doing when I get nervous.
She hums slightly as she thinks of a question. I can't believe how attracted I am towards her right now. She is gorgeous, kind, funny, smart; what isn't there to like?
"Where do you find yourself in 5 years?"
"Ah, the golden question." I smile when she laughs. I love that laugh, it's not annoying or high pitched, it's...different. "Hopefully working for a job I love. Something that pays well so I don't have to worry about supporting my family. But I don't want it all to be about money, either. I want to keep the business end of my life in the office and come home to someone I love until death parts us without worrying if a file went straight through to HR or not..." I shrug. I should have just said I see myself married with children. Now I sound lame going into dept about a job I'm not even sure will exist.
I feel her eyes on me and I can't be sure if I said something wrong. But my concern doesn't last long as she smiles and softly says "Good answer."
Walking up to the ticket gate my hand escapes my pocket as I hand our tickets over to be scanned. Thanking the lady at the gate before we walk in, I hand Monica her ticket. Before I could find the warm sensation of my pockets, Monica's hand reaches down for mine. And for a moment, I hope my hand isn't sweaty.
Her face glows with excitement as she sees the opened stadium. The sun hits my baseball cap that covers her long locks, hiding her eyes that are as blue as the ocean and for a second I'm lost. How did I get to be the lucky bastard to go out with the most gorgeous women I've ever laid eyes on? Something tells me I'm dreaming. The wind picks up and her buttoned jersey flies open revealing the white tank top underneath. God, I hope I'm not dreaming.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly ask if she's hungry. Something, anything, to get my mind off the thoughts running through my head.
Most of the night was a blur and pretty soon it's the bottom of the ninth, a man on first, 2 outs, down by 1 and Hampton is up to bat. Everyone is on the edge of their seats ready for the home run that will win us the game.
I could see the pitcher sweating from here as Hampton grips the bat even tighter; ready to slam it. My glove is still firmly on my left hand, Monica's hand on my thigh and empty cups at our feet. The rest of the world disappeared as I watched the field light up, the sun long gone by this point.
"Time!" The ump raises his hands and the batter steps out.
As the coach walks out to the mound music fills the speakers and everyone's eyes go to the big screen. A heart shaped boarder with the words "Kiss Cam" come on as couples throughout the stadium share their public display of affection.
Then my heart starts racing again as I find mine and Monica's face up there. I politely shake my head and lean back in my chair; trying to get out of the shot. This is our first date. I wasn't going to ruin it by some G-rated smooch for the crowds entertainment.
"Booo..."
Thankfully, the camera respects my decline as they move onto an elderly couple.
Looking around I try to find out where the camera may be pointing, but it's way too crowded to notice.
When Monica's hand pats my thigh I look up to find us on the build board once again. I sigh knowing there isn't much I can do once the audience begins chanting "Kiss Her...Kiss Her...Kiss Her!" I turn towards my date and find a soft smile planted on her lips.
"So, are you gonna kiss me or not?" She says softly. And although the people around us are loud and obnoxious, I can hear her clearly.
Leaning in slowly, her eyes as blue as the sea, her lips glistening against the night stars as I only see her.
Monica raises her cap slightly just as our lips clash together. The intensity almost unbearable as my breath hitches. The feeling mutual as the crowd goes "Awww..." and I know she feels the electricity too.
I don't want to break away, but any longer and I would have ended up with brain damage by the lack of oxygen.
"Play ball!"
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I'm no longer nervous.
"Chandler? You still there man?" Joey's voice comes through my cell.
Blinking a few times, I quickly look around to see where I'm at. Thankfully I'm just down the street from my apartment. It's amazing how I can still end up on the right track even when I'm worlds away.
"I'm sorry, what was the question?"
"Dude, you were gone for like 5 minutes. I thought we lost connection." He tells me "I just wanted to know why you suddenly want tickets for a game you haven't been to in years."
My head is pounding, I can't think straight. All these emotions, all these thoughts, are circling my head like some kind of parallel universe. "I just think it's time for a change." I answer before hanging up and tossing my phone in the passenger seat. I want to forget Monica Geller, but it's kind of hard to do when I'm still in love with her.