“No problem, sir.”
With that, Cindy Johnson (Girls’ P.E. teacher) began the Bible study for the morning. I heard her mention something about heart rebellion as my mind wandered once again. I really disliked substitute teachers, always had. Robin felt the same way, so I knew she must have been feeling pretty lousy to have already missed two whole days. It wasn’t that substitutes were awful people, and we were certainly grateful for them when we needed them (and God knew there had been a time when I needed them often), but teachers can be territorial people. We have plans for our students, and as good as some substitutes might be, they were no match for us. They couldn’t impart knowledge on the kids quite like we could no matter how hard they tried. And, on the dreadful occasion that the school got a substitute who wasn’t qualified, we would usually have to spend our first day back undoing all the damage the sub had caused. This is why most teachers just leave videos for the substitute to show. It’s not because we are lazy, we just don’t inherently trust anyone else with our students.
Robin and I weren’t video people though, so I hoped this Mrs. Batista would be able to handle the workload. Part of me secretly wondered whether or not Robin had jam-packed her lesson plans to scare the sub a little. I certainly wouldn’t have put it past her. I thought about offering Mrs. Batista’s name up when it came time to share our prayer requests. Hopefully, she didn’t have a thick accent that would probably get her made fun of and would cause more of a distraction than anything. Kids could be cruel, and while a good portion of the kids at Lakefront Christian School were absolute angels, the ones who weren’t, absolutely weren’t. No middle ground. Love ‘em or hate ‘em.
The meeting mercifully ended and I was the first one out the door. I headed down the hallway to my classroom, which was located on the far west end of the building and the last room on the left before you got to the bathrooms. Needless to say things could get loud, and I often was called into the bathroom to quell some sort of disturbance, but other than that I liked where I was and enjoyed the view from my upstairs window onto the baseball fields below. Thankfully a ball hadn’t been hit far enough to reach my window. Yet. When I had been a student and had played on the baseball team, I had hit a ball that struck the building between where my window currently was, and where Robin’s window was in the room next door. Fortunately, power like mine didn’t come around too often! Oh, who am I kidding?
I wrote out a few instructions on the whiteboard for my first period class as I waited for the bell to chime. Kids could arrive however early they wanted to, or however early their parents wanted to drop them off, but they weren’t allowed into the building until the first bell rang ten minutes before class was scheduled to begin. A bell would ring once to signify they had five minutes to get to class, then it would ring three times to signal the start of the class. Any students caught in the hallway after the last bell would be sent to the office.
No matter how many times I heard the bell, and no matter how I tried to time it, I never could seem to predict when the first bell would ring. I knew it was coming soon as I laid out review sheets on all the desks, but I had no idea when it would chime.
I heard the door to Robin’s room open slowly and then shut. Mrs. Batista must have arrived. I figured I should give her a second to look over the lesson before I bounded next door to see if she needed anything. But, I also knew that the bell was going to ring soon, and didn’t want to be trying to explain things to her as the kids were loudly declaring their arrival to the classroom. So, I finished laying out the review sheets and walked next door.
Each classroom door had a small glass window in the middle of it, and I could see into the room before I walked in. Mrs. Batista was standing with her back to the door, so I couldn’t see her face. She was wearing what appeared to be a very pretty green dress with large white polka dots that went down to her ankles. Her hair was brown and curly and went just a little past her shoulders. I could tell from the window that she had incredible hair. Luxurious was the word that immediately popped into my mind as I stood at the door. I remember it distinctly because the word “luxurious” had never entered my mind to describe anyone’s hair that I had ever met previously. I also remember thinking that if she had never been approached by someone to do a shampoo commercial, whoever was in charge of those sorts of things should be fired. Perhaps even executed.
I took a deep breath, and then I opened the door and entered the room. She turned to see who it was, and it was an absolute miracle of heaven that the words “Oh my God” didn’t come flying out of my mouth. I was standing face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, and she looked nothing like I expected her to look. When I heard the name Mrs. Batista, I immediately assumed she would be short, tan skinned, dark eyes, Hispanic. I also figured she would be Robin’s age, or older, but the only assumption I got correct were the color of her eyes. She was tall, probably 5’9 or 5’10, and lean, like she could have run track her whole life. Her skin wasn’t remotely tan. She was very fair skinned, incredibly so, like a porcelain doll that had been given another coat of white before being boxed up and shipped out. Her eyes were very large, and inquisitive, and brown like almonds. Her lips were plump, especially her bottom lip. It was a delectable work of art, and I had to resist the urge to immediately suck on it. Nothing says “Welcome” quite like a stranger moving in and sucking on your lip. She smiled a warm, friendly smile when she saw me, revealing perfect white teeth.