Page 1 of Tex's Angel

Chapter 1

Clara

Abigail enters my classroom as I unpack my suitcase-sized briefcase. She’s my one source of support in this school full of wildly out of control teens. Catching sight of the extra-large Styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand, a smile jumps onto my face.

“I thank God for you every single day, Abby. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Quickly grabbing the cup she offers, I take a sip. It’s so good, my eyes practically roll back in my head. “I really needed something to give me a little boost this morning.”

My best friend smiles at my dramatics and takes a sip of her pumpkin spiced latte. “Even you can’t have anything to complain about this early in the morning, Clara,” she responds with a sigh.

“Wanna bet? I busted three students vaping and a broke up one fight on my way from the car to my classroom.”

Abby gestures with her coffee, “I don’t know why you bother redirecting vapers. It’s not like if you make them stop, they’re going to give up vaping forever.”

Sitting on the edge of my desk, I take a few more sips of the warm brew, trying to get as much of it into my body as possible before the bell rings and I get swarmed with students.

After thinking it over, I explain my train of thought, “Vaping on school property is against the rules. If I let them get away with breaking the rules in front of me, they’ll just spiral more and more out of control as the weeks roll by. By the end of the school year, they’ll end up the ones in charge of my classroom instead of me.”

My best friend in the whole world just shrugs carelessly with one shoulder. “You’ve gotten too used to teaching younger kids who need more guidance, I believe letting them get away with small things maintains some semblance of a balance, where they feel like they have control over their lives. It keeps them from turning every situation into a power struggle.”

“Ha,” I tell her. I don’t mind that my friend is trying to tell me how to do my job, she’s only trying to help. I’ve been teaching at Las Salinas High School for three months, but so far, my methods are working, “I’m not afraid of a conflict, as long we can all settle down and learn something afterwards.”

“Yeah, she responds, sounding a little miffed. “That’s easy for you to say. You teach world history, which is filled with kings, queens, and action-packed adventures. Try teaching math for a few years. My biggest problem isn’t the students making mischief or challenging my authority, it’s them constantly falling asleep in my class.” The disgruntled tone of Abby’s voice tells me she’s not joking, even a little bit.

“You could always dress up like an eight or something to liven the mood,” I suggest lightheartedly. “Or teach them to calculate the square footage of your classroom. I used to teach my nephew to do addition and subtraction using jellybeans.”

Abigail gives me a dead-eyed stare. “I know you think you’re funny but trust me on this, you’re totally not.”

I open my mouth to plead my case, but the morning bell sounds off, long and loud, calling everyone to homeroom. “Sorry Abby. You should have picked a more entertaining major if you were planning to teach.”

Students come rushing into my classroom and scrambling to find their seats. Abby turns and fights her way through the throng of teenage bodies to make it to her own classroom. I have to admit as I stand there drinking the last of my coffee, that my students look really motivated, eager even.

What no one knows is that I reassign their seats every afternoon before I leave, so they have to find the desk with their name on it. If they return the tape with their name on it to me at the end of the day, they get a bonus point on their weekly quiz. Yeah, generous, I know. My success as a teacher is all just carrots and sticks. That’s what kids respond to until their frontal lobe develops fully.

The twenty-eight students in my homeroom move around the building in one homogenous group. They have me for world history, Abby for mathematics, Darren Scott for English, Belinda St. Clair for literature, Coach Johnson for physical education, Deshawn Jackson for computer science and our oldest colleague, Sofia Alvarez for science. Seven, forty-five minute classes and an hour for lunch. They’re the core classes, but the school also offers foreign languages, arts, business studies, social studies, performing arts, and vocational education. In total, we have two-hundred and nine kids, and I teach approximately around a hundred and seventeen of them throughout the day, which keeps me blissfully busy. Prior to this position becoming available I was teaching at an elementary school. I enjoyed it, but high school teaching had been myspecialty at college, and since I got this job three months ago I couldn’t be happier.

I’m just about to take roll when my phone rings. It’s my soon to be ex-husband. I reject the call and wait a few seconds. Of course it rings again, only this time it’s my sister, Gina. I reject that call as well. It pisses me off that they call in tandem. Since I can’t do anything about my cheating husband or the woman he cheated with, I put my phone on silent and announce, “Put your cell phones on silent. If I can go without my phone for forty-five minutes, so can you. Anything urgent and your parents can contact the principal.”

I give them a couple of minutes to settle down, take roll and head right into today’s lesson. “Please open your books to chapter thirteen. Today we’re going to discuss the Kyoto Protocol. I hope everyone completed their reading assignment last night because today is going to a class discussion of the material.”

I hear several groans as they open their books.

“What can you tell me about the historical significance of the Kyoto Protocol?”

Shelly’s hand shoots up. “I know.”

I nod in her direction. “Go ahead, Shelly.’

“The Kyoto Protocol was formally presented on December 11, 1997, at the UN conference on climate change in Kyoto, Japan. It was an international treaty to limit greenhouse gasses.”

“Good work, Shelly. That’s exactly right. The Kyoto Protocol was open for signatures for nearly two years followingthe presentation. Can anyone tell me what happened after President Clinton signed the agreement?”

Sam raises his hand, albeit it reluctantly, “The United States senate never ratified the treaty because…”

I listen as my students explained the material that most of them clearly read last night. I always assign the chapter reading the night before so we can have a more spirited discussion during class. For a full forty-five minutes my students talk about not only the Kyoto Protocol but about environmental issues in general and eventually began to argue about global warming when the bell rings for them to change classes.

As the day rolled on, every class went pretty much the same way throughout. Shaping young minds and teaching them to think for themselves is every bit as gratifying as I thought it would be during college. At twenty-seven, I received teacher of year for Salinas County. That was last year and never one to rest on my laurels, I’m still surging forward, opening inroads with students and collaborating with my peers, eager to forge a career I can be proud of.

By the end of the day I’m more exhausted than usual. And my phone has blown up with a bunch of texts from the dynamic duo. I just shove it back into my pocket, I really can’t be bothered with their shit right now.

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