Class from Hell
Beachcomber looked around the old gymnasium, trying to envision it filled with human children. The air filled with their eager curiosity as they would ask questions in a continuous stream at him. He smiled, for this teaching job that Spike's old friend had helped him get, was perfect!
Footsteps filled his audios. Looking expectantly towards the door that his sensors indicated the sound was coming from; he prepared himself for his early students to arrive. A warm smile covered his face as the shape of a small, human female was silhouetted against the semi-transparent glass of the door. It opened with agonizing slowness, the eager mech having to hold back his excitement. Even before the student had started in, "How are you this morning?" he asked.
"Oh, pretty good, and yourself?" An older female voice replied.
A surprised expression passed over the mech's face. It wasn't a student who had entered his 'classroom'; it was one of the tenured faculty members. Quickly, he scanned through his memory files, matching the diminutive middle-aged woman to the personnel files he had from the school. Her file popped into his active memory. Her name was 'Mrs Sims' and she was senior faculty, and taught the AP Chemistry class upstairs. "Mrs. Sims, I didn't expect you," he stammered a bit.
Unfazed, the small woman strolled into the old gymnasium, her white lab coat swaying slightly with her steps. She stopped and peered up at him, sliding her finger on the top of her nose in order to reposition her glasses better. "You must be Mr. Beachcomber," she stated more than asked.
"Yes ma-am," he replied with a smile. He decided to sit down, since humans seemed more comfortable when a mech didn't tower so far over them. Granted, this tiny woman didn't seem the least bit intimidated.
"Mr. Samson informed me that this is your first day teaching," she said with a warm smile.
"Yes ma-am it is," the mech replied.
She cocked her head, giving him a curious look. "So you've never even sub'd?" she asked.
"No ma-am," he replied, "Perhaps you could give me some pointers?"
She chuckled. The warm, welcoming tone echoed throughout the gymnasium. Without any hesitation, she walked up to him and patted him on his leg armor like he was an old friend. "The students are going to try and eat you alive," she chuckled.
His optic ridges scrunched together in confusion. He'd never heard of humans eating mechs before. He didn't think metal was in their diet. So were they truly going to 'eat him'? "Um, I don't understand. I didn't think humans consumed machinery," he replied.
This caused the teacher to really burst out in laughter. But then she stopped herself and studied him intently. "You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" she asked, concern in her voice.
He shrugged, "I was told I'd just be educating kids on Earth geology. You know, talking about it."
She clucked her tongue, shaking her head from side-to-side. "It's not that simple Mr. Beachcomber. You've got to have classroom management down, before you can even start teaching," she told him. Her expression was one of concern.
"What's classroom management?" he asked. He'd never heard of this term.
She sighed, obviously feeling sorry for him. "It's making the students behave," she explained.
"Oh, don't you just ask them too – and they do?" Beachcomber asked. Isn't that what Sparkplug did to Spike?
The first bell rang and students started to file in. Mrs. Sims patted his leg in an almost sympathetic fashion. "We'll talk about it during planning period, ok? But if you need assistance, just dial 222. Since Vice Principle Tasks isn't here, I'm acting in her stead. So I've got one of the permanent subs in my classes today," she told him.
He thanked the woman and watched her leave. Then he turned his attention to the students who were filling up the bleachers. The gymnasium got loud with their conversations as many of them were looking up at him, then down at sheets of paper, then back up at him. Then they'd talk to each other for a bit, comparing their sheets of paper.
"Um, like, who are you?" One asked him.
"Are you a sub?!" Another asked in an excited tone.
That one got hit on the head by another guy, "No he's the teacher, stupid! Didn't you read the notice yesterday?!"
"Aw, fuck you Chris, who reads those things?" the blond boy who just got hit demanded to know.
"Gay asswipes like him do!" a dark-skinned boy joked as he lightheartedly pushed the boy who'd initially hit the one guy.
"Wow, can you really turn into a car?!" a young dark-skinned girl with long braids in her hair asked Beachcomber.
Before he could even reply, the boy called Chris answered for him. "Sure he can, that's what they do. Why else would they be called 'Transformers'? Duh!"
She proceeded to chase that boy around Beachcomber with her folder, hitting him whenever she got close enough. Then two other girls grabbed the boy and held him still while she pegged him with the folder.
"You are so gay Chris!" one of the other boys teased. The rest of them snickering as they watched him getting assaulted by the girls with folders.
Beachcomber tried desperately to get a word in edgewise, but he was completely ignored by the students. He cleared his throat a few times, since he'd seen Sparkplug do that and get Spike's attention. But it didn't work with these kids. The noise of their talking and joking got louder and louder, he felt like his audios were going to be overwhelmed as he tried to follow ten different conversations at once. "Please be quiet!" he yelled, and was totally ignored.
Then he felt something hit his back. Swiveling at his waist, he turned to see what it was. There were two of the boys, seeing if they could lob a basketball over his helm, without hitting the ceiling. They tried again, and ended up smacking him in an optic. He snagged the ball before it hit the ground, and yelled at them as he checked his optic lens with his other hand to make sure it hadn't bee damaged. But the boys were unperturbed, they went to grab some paper to see if they could throw a crumpled up piece over his helm.
"Antonio, you suck!" one yelled, as the crumpled piece of paper hit Beachcomber on his chest armor.
"Ya pimp, you can't even get it half way over!" a red-headed boy snickered.
"Eat me," Antonio told them. Boldly, he jumped up on Beachcomber's leg, grabbed the crumbled paper 'ball', jumped back to the floor and tried again.
The mech tried to catch the paper 'ball', but it was too small and fell right out of his big hand. Again, he pleaded with the students to behave and sit down. Yet again he was completely ignored. Covering his audios with his hands, Beachcomber tried to think of just what he was supposed to do. These humans were completely out-of-control! Then he recalled the number that the little teacher had told him to call. Activating his radio, he connected to the school's phone system and dialed it. Desperation in his voice as he tried to tell her what was going on. He was forced to yell in order to be heard over the din.
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"Alright you slackers – SHUT UP!" a loud female voice yelled over the din.
In the blink of an optic, Beachcomber swore he could hear a pin drop in the gymnasium. Turning his head, he spied the tiny Mrs. Sims striding in. She had a very perturbed expression on her face.
"Get in your seats – NOW!" she ordered, glancing over at the crowd of girls who'd been chasing Chris, she glared at them. "And you three, do I need to write you up first thing in the morning – again?" she asked in a sarcastic tone.
The students muttered their apologies and shuffled to their seats, glaring a bit at the small woman.
Beachcomber looked at the woman in amazement. She was literally half the height of most of these high schoolers, yet they seemed to cower before her. As if she could physically pick them up and drag them to the office. "Thank you Mrs. Sims," he said to her, relief so evident in his tone.
She gave him a dismissive shrug as she glanced at every single student in the stands. "I hope I didn't offend you by coming by your class, but I know most of these young people," she stated. There were several 'u-huhs' from the students, and Beachcomber swore he saw a few of them cringe as her harsh gaze landed on them. "And I know how much misery they like to heap on subs and new teachers," she finished. She made a point to glare at specific students with the last statement.
"Um, not offended in the least ma-am - In fact, if you want the floor to show me what this classroom management thing is all about – I'd feel privileged!" he replied. His audios picked up muted groans with that statement. He wondered why the students seemed to act like it was painful to sit and be quiet. Perhaps he should ask Mrs. Sims about it during planning. He'd just never realized how much he DIDN'T know about dealing with human younglings!
Mrs. Sims crossed her arms and glared at the students. Then she proceeded to give them a harsh lecture concerning the topic of respect for the next ten minutes. Finishing up with the fact that IF Mr. Beachcomber felt the need to call her back in here – there was going to be some hinny's in the office waiting for their fathers to pick them up.
She winked at Beachcomber as she finished. "You owe me a lift to the coffee shop during planning," she said with a grin. After she left, the students were wonderful!
Beachcomber couldn't wait until planning period. He had so many questions to ask that tiny woman while he took her to the coffee shop!
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Note: This is a true 'Mary Sue' since I couldn't resist a little 'self insertion' on this chapter.. Granted, there's no love or fluff in it…Just an old teacher helping a new one… LOL
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