Hot For Teacher(117)

The girl from the woods.

It seems ridiculous that I’d let something take me from my fantasy so easily. In my mind, I already had my hands up Katie’s dress. But something about the girl from last night makes me forget about it instantly. I find myself—inexplicably—only seeing, only thinking about the girl I had only met the night before.

“Good afternoon, everybody!” Miss Shields says. “We have a new student on our debate team. Please welcome Arleen Carson.”

Arleen Carson.

My mystery girl officially has a name.

It’s a weird name. An old name.

Katie gives a swift nod and glances over to me. But for the first time since I can remember, I’m not paying any attention to her.

Miss Shields clears her throat and continues. “The topic for Thursday’s debate is: Same-sex education and whether it aids in educational growth or hinders necessary socialization. I’ll be over here.” She points to a table in the opposite corner, where she’s already placed her laptop and papers to grade. “Feel free to come to me with any questions you may have.”

We split up into two large groups, and sit at separate tables for researching. Arleen has pulled up a chair at the corner of my team’s table, and I try not stare. Yet, I find myself gaping at her like an idiot.

Arleen isn’t a supermodel, but she’s definitely pretty. I had already forgotten since last night. Her hair is lighter than I thought, too. I wonder what it feels like. Is it as soft as it looks?

Stop being such an emotive douche, Simon! I yell at myself.

“Simon?” Juliana asks. “Do you already know which side you’re on?” She licks her lips slowly, which really just makes her look like a drooling, rabid animal. I squint at her. Does she realize she looks as though she’s trying to eat her own face?

“Yep. I’m set,” I say, smiling.

“Let’s hear it, then,” Juliana challenges.

I shrug. “It’s really a no-brainer. I’m not saying I would ultimately enjoy a classroom with all guys, but when you think about the end-goal, what education should be, the answer is simple.” I look around the table at my rapt audience. But Arleen isn’t swooning or smiling or doing any of the normal girl things I have become used to. Arleen sits in the corner, seeming disinterested.

So I began to speak louder. You know, in case she’s hard of hearing or something.

“In order for our society to grow and become stronger, we need to be educating our students in the best ways we can. All the studies point to this being beneficial for the student, causing the number of yearly graduations and successful careers to flourish. In one study, it suggests males learn better in a warmer classroom, while girls in a cooler one. For an optimal learning environment, this is what needs to happen. I only see it as beneficial. Besides, it’s not like we wouldn’t see our friends of the opposite sex during lunch or after school.”

I hear a murmur to my left, but choose to ignore the sniggers that follow. Pretty sure it was a snide remark about what I was known to do after school hours.

“There’s also another study that says teenaged boys are embarrassed to take elective courses such as choir or art classes. It makes them appear feminine. If we offered courses that were males-only in our school, it would eliminate any ridicule or shame in taking them.”

“But your vision is skewed.” The whisper comes from the corner of the table.

“Excuse me?” I chime, appalled that anyone would question my logic.

Arleen sits up straighter and looks me straight in the eyes.

“Teenagers are young and impressionable,” she begins. “If we start segregating our sexes, who’s to say the next step wouldn’t be to separate social classes, minorities, and people with disabilities? Each child learns differently, and yes, there are ideals for those environments, but what would our system be producing but students, and eventually adults, who believe that everything should be catered to them? We live in a world of people who feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. No. This would be stoking that unstable fire and allowing it to burn everything around it. You put a student like that in the real world and they’ll never survive.” She looks around the table briefly and then her eyes lock on mine again. “Who here was on a community sports team when they were younger?”

All of us nod.

“And how many trophies and awards did you receive?”

“One every year, even if just for participating,” replies Josie, a girl on our team.

“And how is that fair?” Arleen’s eyebrows scrunch together and her posture straightens.