Page 19 of Compelled Obedience

This was my last class of the day, usually my favorite. I had several promising students, those who had plans on following their dreams no matter what. Sadly, two were out sick, the three who remained overwhelmed by what every other teacher called the ‘bad seed.’ Some of them weren’t bad kids, just followers, longing to find a place in society.

It was the few considered leaders, some indoctrinated by one of the brutal gangs into shifting from being bullies to savage thugs. They ruled the school, but not one of the kids would ever control me.

I stood with my arms crossed, leaning against the wall as I studied the worst kid of the bunch. The sad thing was that Sanchez Rodriguez had real talent. His voice was incredible and the way he played the piano could be considered prodigy level. In another situation he’d be guaranteed a scholarship when he graduated at the end of the year, but instead he’d succumbed to the gangs a year before.

When he was finished with his tirade on fascism inside the classroom, I offered him a round of applause. He jerked around, first snarling then his eyes searching mine for some level of truth behind my supposed compliment. I nodded to him, smiling even though I was angry at the disruption. “You made several excellent points, Sanchez. I agree with you that if there was a better system of listening to students’ concerns, then there might be a tether that could form that would strengthen in time. However, I disagree with you that it takes a village to begin. Ultimately, yes. However, it begins with only one.” I held up my index finger. “A single person who says in his or her actions that they refuse to take the bullshit any longer and will fight for a better future.”

I could tell the other kids in the class were surprised at my offer of a challenge. I wanted to work the kid’s brain. Sanchez scratched his head, obviously uncertain how he was supposed to respond. I’d been told the kid had it out for me and that I was on some list. Up until recent events, I hadn’t worried. But I’d thought the kid following me the other night might have been Sanchez. While I now knew better, that didn’t make his threatening gestures any less terrifying.

But I refused to play a victim to anyone.

“Be the one person, Sanchez.”

The confusion remained in his demeanor for a few seconds. Then his usual swagger returned as he walked closer, trying to intimidate me. He should know by now his antics didn’t work on me. I stood my ground as he approached, keeping a genuine smile on my face.

“You tink you all dat, teach? You nothin’.”

The ridiculous gang-like accent always irritated me.

“Maybe so. I tell you what. Why don’t you show me how talented you are?” Another split second of uncertainty flowed into his system. That allowed me an opening. I pointed at the battered baby grand, lifting my eyebrows. “Why don’t you lead the group today? Huh? Do you think you’re man enough?”

I was pushing, maybe a little too hard, but I would do anything to get through to the bright young man with a horrible future. He was the poster child for ending up in prison by the time he was twenty-one. I cocked my head, lifting my eyebrows in another challenge. He hated it when I did that, which was exactly why I did. For some reason, he continued to come to my class while he skipped almost all the others, except when he wanted to cause trouble.

“You don’t think I can do it?” Suddenly, his gangsta talk was long gone.

“Oh, I think you can do anything you set your mind to. So show me. Do it.”

He debated for another couple of seconds, but I noticed he didn’t glance at the two boys he ran with. When he turned around, heading toward the piano, I took a deep breath while trying to hide my excitement. It was the little things in teaching that made me happy.

After he sat down, I could swear the kid had prepared to lead the class. He knew exactly what we were working on, even though he’d acted like he hadn’t been paying any attention. As he started to dole out orders in a gentle voice that I honestly didn’t recognize, I was overcome by emotion. That wasn’t acceptable. I had to act like I couldn’t care less for him to be able to succeed.

The other kids were shocked but with a single encouraging nod from me, they returned to their regular chairs, prepared to follow Sanchez’s lead.

Fifteen minutes later, I could barely contain my excitement. Not only did he have unprecedented talent on the piano, but he could also become an orchestra conductor if he wanted. He was brilliant and natural in leading every component of the makeshift music group, getting the most out of the beaten-up instruments and fearful kids until they sounded incredible.

When the last song ended, I was stunned for a few seconds, still fighting tears. But as I lifted my hands to provide the kind of real applause the entire group deserved, I realized I wasn’t the first.

The boisterous sound was exactly the one I’d heard two days before inside the hotel ballroom. There was no way it was the same person. When I turned my head, butterflies threatened to derail every thought floating in my brain.

Grant stood on the outskirts of the room, excitement written all over his face, his actions boyish and exuberant. The kids had never had an audience, not once. There’d never been another teacher entering the room or the principal, who preferred hiding in his office. And there certainly wasn’t interest or money in the budget to offer a single concert.

To see the excitement on their faces, the joy on Sanchez’s, no matter how short lived it would be was priceless. While I was eternally grateful for Grant following through with his commitment, I wouldn’t forgive him for making a fool of me and of the woman he cared about. I added my applause and in a room that had excellent acoustics, the echo of our two pairs of hands added another layer of excitement.

Sanchez was momentarily floored until he realized Grant stood at least three inches taller than him and outweighed his lanky frame by a solid fifty pounds. He slammed down the cover onto the keyboard then stormed out of the room, whistling at his two buddies to follow like lap dogs.

Exhaling, I threw Grant another look, studying his solid frame. Somewhere in the back of my mind I imagined he wore a suit to bed. Seeing him in stone-washed jeans that fit his body like a glove, holes in the knees, and a halfway unbuttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled over his elbows was just about the sexiest look on a man I could think of.

Especially when he’d topped it off with cowboy boots.

Whew. He had a body made for the filthiest sin. He pinned his eyes on me, his nostrils flaring and for a few seconds, I was awash in the same haze I’d been in during our terse exchange in the hotel’s hallway.

“Okay, guys. That was fantastic. Our time is about up. Remember to practice.” Why? What was the point in them practicing? While some of them cherished the fact they were allowed to borrow their instruments for the year, others couldn’t care less, barely putting them back in the cases on the shelves. It was a never-ending cycle. While a couple of girls gave Grant a onceover, one daring to drag her tongue across her lips then make a suckling sound, the others ignored him.

As soon as the kids walked out, the last student slamming the door, I took a deep breath, uncertain how to handle the intruder. The sudden quiet in the room was deafening and unnerving.

I heard his footsteps on the cheap linoleum floor seconds later as he walked closer. I was suddenly aware I couldn’t look any dowdier than I did. I’d grabbed an older jean skirt and blouse that likely had permanent deodorant stains in the armpits. Even my sensible shoes were so not me, but exhaustion and anxiety had led me to my comfortable choices that morning.

“Hi.” The single word he issued wasn’t too bad except for I had a lump in my throat.

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