Sam POV, Present
Never in a million years did I picture myself as a teacher. Me, willingly working at the place I claimed to hate so much? In truth, I didn't despise school quite as strongly as I said. I enjoyed music, lunch (of course), some projects... I actually, grudgingly, liked Science sometimes. It was actually my favorite core class. But still, if someone told me five years ago that this is where I'd end up, I would never have believed them.
Even though I used to have weekly meeting with him to discuss behavioral 'issues', I always knew Principal Franklin actually liked me. Despite this, I was surprised to be hired by him. He must have known I had little patience for children, that I was not one for following the rules, and a thousand other things that would me a less than perfect teacher. However, he called me personally to tell me that I got the job.
I was replacing Mrs. Krall, the former music teacher who was downright ancient. She taught music theory, composition, and also directed the orchestra, which was thankfully not part of my responsibilities. She played violin, and I had a theory that she learned from Mozart himself; she was so old.
When I walked into the school, after wandering through the office, the first person I saw was Mr. Howard, looking exactly the same as he did seven years ago. He promptly froze in his tracks and stared at me. "S-Samantha Puckett?" he asked. I could hear a slight tinge of fear in his voice.
I smiled at him sweetly. "Yes. That's me."
His mouth was moving, trying to make something intelligible come out, but all that escaped was pure silence. "I-I... What are you doing here?" he finally said.
"I'm a teacher. I'm replacing Mrs. Krall, the music teacher."
He was utterly mute before managing to say, "How?"
"Well, I did attend Berklee. I find that some people see that as impressive. I have a degree in music theory and composition, classes that I am teaching. I have done a lot of growing up over these years, Mr. Howard."
I didn't think that he believed me. He looked skeptical. "It's Charles. We're on equal footing now, I suppose." He started to walk away from me at that point. "But I still don't trust you. I've got my eye on you, Puckett."
"Please, call me Sam," I said in a sugary tone. "We're colleagues now."
He seemed to pick up the pace as he power walked away from me. I laughed and shook my head. This was too fun. Then, I started my journey towards the room that I would be occupying. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that it was mine.
On the way, I ran into Mr. Rohrer, who was the band director. He had a gigantic mouth, probably perfectly suitable for playing the tuba and trombone and such. He welcomed me and seemed nice. However, I think I frightened him a little when I randomly pulled a strip of beef jerky out of my bag and started munching on it while he described his conducting style or some other boring chiz. I bade him goodbye and went into my room.
My first class was Composition 1, which focused on song construction, song writing, chord progressions, and a little bit of recording with GarageBand on the school laptops. This was the class I was most excited to teach. I knew that my teaching style was going to be a lot more relaxed and creative than other teachers, and I hoped that the kids would like me. Also, I hoped they would look at me as more than just a teacher, but a mentor and friend.
A short while later, the bell rang. Our school bell was a loud, annoying gong-like noise that reverberated through my room and left my head ringing. A slow trickle of students began to enter my room and stand around awkwardly, probably because the desks were pushed against the walls and impossible to sit in.
"Drop your bags by the wall," I said. "Go ahead and sit on the rug in the back." The kids looked at each other, surprised, and they complied. Four minutes later, the bell rang again, annoying my ears. I walked back to the rug where the students were situated. I had about fifteen kids in my class, which was pretty tiny, but for what we were doing, it was better to have a smaller amount. I joined the students on the floor.
"So, first question, what tone does the school bell ring at?"
One boy raised his hand and said, "B-flat."
"Nice. Perfect pitch?"
"Yeah," he replied. "I've been playing piano since I was three. I can learn a song by ear just by listening to it once."
"Okay, no need to brag," I said. He looked slightly offended, but he was getting a little ego-centric for my tastes. "I think we should ignore the rules because we all know them. Let's start by talking about our music experience. Tell me what instruments you play, for how long, favorite type of music, stuff like that. Why don't you start?" I asked the boy that had replied to my first question.
"I'm Max Ericson. I've played piano for thirteen years and cello for ten. I take private lessons for both. I despise modern music. I prefer the classics. You know, Bach, Beethoven, Brahams. I'm taking this class because I'd like to write some orchestral pieces for my string quartet. Also, I'd like to see if I could write better lyrics than the crap on the radio. I'm pretty sure I can."
I stared at Max. I seriously hoped that the whole class wasn't like this.
Next, a girl with long brown hair spoke. "Hi, my name is Lily Milhouse. I started guitar three years ago. I know I'm probably not that experienced compared to the others, but I just really love playing. I've also written a couple of songs, but I'm not sure if they're that good. My favorite music is generally more acoustic, softer. I just hope I can get some more help to improve my music."
The other kids went on introducing themselves like this. They could all play some type of instrument and most of them liked to sing too. I was getting pretty excited to help them along. I also asked them whether they planned to pursue music as a career. A few replied with a definitive yes.
Lily, however, said, "Well, that's my dream, but I... Well, it doesn't seem very likely. I'd probably be better off going to school for business or whatever so I had something to fall back on. I mean, no offense, but I don't want to end up as a music teacher."
"Let me tell you guys something," I said, feeling I ought to explain how I ended up here anyway. "I hated school. I never wanted to be a teacher. Really, I wanted to lay around the house and eat bacon all day."
They looked at me with strange expressions. Yes, I was not their typical teacher.
"But if I had to get a job, I knew that I wanted to play music. I love to play guitar. I wanted a band. I had two, though we were never very good or popular. Then I thought maybe I should be a songwriter because I loved that too, and I was never with a shortage of things to write about. That didn't work out too well either. I sold a song or two to some people, but they ended up not being released or on the cutting room floor. I knew I had better get my act together, so here I am. I know I'm living proof that the music industry is hard and kind of sucks. But I really want to help you guys to succeed. Teaching isn't failure for me because I know that I'm going to find someone really talented one day, and I'll be able to assist them. That's what I want. So, don't give up before you've even tried."
Class was nearly over at that point, so I passed out a packet of some basic concepts that we were going to cover. Then, the bell rang, and they started to file out the door again. Lily was the last one out, and she turned to me and said, "I have a feeling that I'm going to like this class."
"I hope you do," I replied. I thought I would too.
Junior Year, February
"So, you didn't forget my birthday?" asked Freddie. It was a cool February evening, and we were walking down the sidewalk towards my apartment from Carly's place. We had just finished his party, a pleasant affair with cake, balloons, and presents. Presents from everybody but me, but I hadn't forgotten.
"No. Why would I forget?"
"You forget lots of things. You forget to pay me back when I lend you money. You forget to go to all your doctor's appointments, or so you say. It may be on purpose. You forget to feed your cat sometimes. Is forgetting my birthday so much of a stretch?"
"I don't forget important things," I said, blushing a little at how cheesy that sounded. "I definitely got you something. It's at my apartment."
He smiled and slipped his hand in mine. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... Is your mom there? I mean, there's only so much crazy I can take. You're enough of a fix."
"No, she's visiting some Italian guy she met on eHarmony. He lives out of town, an hour away or something like that. They seem to get along well." I said this with a rather sour expression. "He's really sketchy in my opinion."
"Well, that's good. I mean, not the sketchy Italian guy. That we'll be alone. No mother randomly wearing a bikini wandering around."
I nodded, hoping he wasn't getting the wrong idea. "I hope you like my gift. I mean, I worked really hard on it. It took a lot of work."
"Sam Puckett? Putting hard work into something for me? I feel honored."
"You should be."
Finally, we arrived at my apartment. It wasn't as nice or clean as Carly and Freddie's, but he was used to it. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. I waved at my doorman, but he was asleep. Quietly, we walked past him and got in the elevator and rode it up to my floor. After turning the key, we stepped into the room. I motioned towards the couch for Freddie to get comfortable. "Wait for me a second," I said, disappearing into my bedroom.
When I came out a few minutes later, my guitar was strapped over my shoulder and guitar pick was in hand. "Happy birthday, Freddie," I said.
I sat down in the chair opposite him and began picking out a simple melody that rang through the room. Then, I opened my mouth and let my lyrics sing out. He watched me closely, brown eyes fixed on mine as I sang directly to him. I'd written the song a few weeks ago and knew that I wanted to share it with him. Actually, I had never performed one of my own songs for Freddie, especially not one about him. But this one I had to.
"You know it's true, that I'll love you... Until we fall apart," I sang, the final lines.
Freddie looked at me right in the eyes and said, "That was the most beautiful song I've ever heard."
"You're exaggerating," I said.
"Hardly," he said. "Maybe it wasn't the best song ever written, but you wrote it for me. That's why it's my favorite. Thank you, Sam. I think that's the best present I've ever gotten."
Present
My other classes went relatively smoothly as well. After introducing myself to the Music Theory kids and wasting time surfing the Internet during my planning period, lunch time arrived. My favorite time of day. I fished my wallet out of my desk drawer and practically skipped towards the door and the school's French fries and ham.
As I walked down the hallway, I spotted Ms. Briggs. She fixed me with an evil glare, and I glared right back. I forgot that I was trying to act like I had changed. She was simply too repulsive to behave nicely towards. However, I started to stare at the ground after I finished passing her. I was hoping that she wouldn't make my life here too miserable. She did hate me after all.
I was nearly there when I looked up again. That's when I saw him. That's when I heart dropped out of my chest, my breath stopped, and I simply stared. It was Freddie Benson, standing directly beside me.
Author's Note: Hope you like this one! So, next chapter we'll see how Sam and Freddie react to finally meeting again. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what will happen yet. Please review and make suggestions. Thanks!