Lois Young - A Tale of Two Teachers

A Tale of Two Teachers

A Christmas Package

If I Could Be Principal

Written by

Lois Young

Editor

Stephanie Duncan

High School Writing Project 2.0

High School Voices Press

Copyright 2013 Lois Young

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events, locations, or people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Cover Credits

Images Used Under License From Fotolia

Iko Woman Thumbs Up

Lisa F. Young Bossy lady

Raven Chalkboard

Additional Image Editing & Cover Design by TDSWhite

A Tale of Two Teachers

O ne was the best of classes, the other was the worst of classes. The two women were supposedly so alike, yet they were so different. They were friends, but we knew not why.

Both of them were teachers in the same school and both of them taught the sixth grade. If you didn't know their personalities, you might assume that you were dealing with two quite similar people. You'd be wrong!

I was there. I knew their personalities. Walking into Mrs. Pine's classroom was a totally different experience than walking into Miss Wonick's classroom. (The names have been changed to protect both the guilty and innocent alike.)

When you entered Mrs. Pine's classroom, you were happy to be there, even glad to be in school. (Beat that one!) Mrs. Pine was a joy to everyone that she came into contact with.

Everybody had favorable words to say about her. From the students to the principal, we all talked of her kindness. Her classes were almost always fun, hardly ever boring. My fellow students and I hated being absent.

What a contrast felt when entering Miss Wonick's class. Walking through her classroom door was like experiencing a fate worse than death.

The minute you entered the room, you could feel the tension and the resistance in the air. Her face told of nothing but horror. When she walked by our desks, we all squirmed, hoping she wouldn't stop to complain. I was sure she enjoyed scaring everybody like that.

Outside of class was a different matter, yet the results were the same. You could always count on a friendly chat with Mrs. Pine. A smile was routine for her, yet each time, you knew she really meant it. Mrs. Pine was truly a friend to us all.

When it came to Miss Wonick, a friendly greeting from her would have sent us all into shock. The safest and best way to deal with her was to avoid her.

Of course, while dealing with parents, the principal, or other teachers, Mrs. Pine was her usual cheerful self. In such circumstances, Miss Wonick was actually on her way to becoming human. She laughed and talked with the other adults. She didn't fool us, though. We knew she was simply putting on a show for her peers.

You might think that two such different people had little in common. Apparently, they would disagree. The ironic twist in this story is that Mrs. Pine and Miss Wonick were friends, inside and outside of school. We guessed that each must have filled a gap for the other, personality wise, like complements.

As time went on, we students passed from grade to grade and eventually graduated from the school. Mrs. Pine left her teaching position there and moved on to teach at another location, no doubt making students there happy to attend school each day as she once had done for me and my friends.

As one might expect, Miss Wonick left the teaching profession entirely. She started her own business and never set foot in a classroom again. Clearly, that was a far, far better thing for her to do than she had ever done. It resulted in hundreds of students having far, far better educational experiences than they otherwise would have ever known.

A Christmas Package

T he Christmas season was well underway. Everyone, including me, was very excited. I wanted only one present that year. It was the weirdest thing in the whole catalog. It was a small globe, made entirely of lightweight glass. It even had a light inside in the middle.

My mother promised more than one present, of course. Around the middle of December, she put some presents under the Christmas tree. One had my name on it. At first, I really didn't care. It seemed too small to be my coveted globe.

However, as the date got closer to Christmas, I was overcome with curiosity. When nobody was around, I shook the package. It didn't make any identifying sounds. Not very interesting, I thought to myself as I placed it back beneath the tree. I decided I wouldn't even think about it again until Christmas Eve, but every time I walked by the tree, that package seemed to be calling my name.

I tried to ignore it. Really, I did. I swear that little box taunted me each time I looked at it. It dared me to shake it again and try to figure out what secret gift it contained.

It only got worse as I crossed each day off on my Advent calendar, bringing me one day closer to Christmas. I remembered reading some famous phrase that said something about the only way to overcome temptation is to give into it. So I did.

First, I only gave the box a little shake, listening for some tiny hint of what the nice wrapping paper concealed. Just like the first time a few days earlier, I didn't hear anything. I shook it over and over again, harder each time. No matter what I did, that stubborn little box refused to reveal its holiday secrets.

Finally, Christmas Eve arrived. My parents and siblings gathered around the tree. It was time to open our presents. When my turn came, my mother told me to open the one that was already under the tree. (Little did she know how many times I had handled that box over the preceding days.) She said a much bigger present with my name on it was waiting until after I opened this smaller one.

Of course, I knew she meant that my globe was in the bigger box. Now I would finally get the chance to see what was hiding in this mysterious small one.

Slowly, I began taking off the bow. Then I pulled the paper off revealing nothing but a plain brown box. I slit the tape and opened the flaps. All I saw was a whole bunch of that peanut-shaped packing material. I carefully tipped the box upside down.

The packing material slid out along with jagged pieces of glass. Everyone's faces told of horror. They were all watching me, waiting for some kind of reaction. I carefully picked up a large piece of glass. It had the word "Canada" on it. Another piece was stamped "U.S.A."

It can't be, I thought. How? The globe looked so big in the catalog. Oh, NO! I ruined my globe! How could I have been so stupid?

I had been so curious that I just had to keep shaking that package. Not once, but dozens of times, at least. Christmas was ruined for me and it was all my own fault.