Scattered in Song

Chapter 6 - Venus

My art lessons were moving at a crazy fast pace.

"So you're going to start with your first art piece for your portfolio. We've already looked at modernism. I hope you all did your homework because it serves as the prerequisite for this task," our teacher said once we were all sat down. No hi, no making sure we were okay.

I was glad I had done my homework otherwise I would have ended up spending half the lesson just deciding what to draw.

"Please open up your sketchbooks," she ordered.

We did as she said, but I caught a few students putting their hands up. Mrs. Hill gave them a lecture, sounding absolutely furious, and then I heard her shout to each individual that they had an hour's detention after school.

It was the first time I had seen a teacher get angry at a student for not doing their work. In the creative arts school I had attended, everyone was serious and got all their work done because they had a goal in mind - to be successful. And they couldn't afford to not train or practice or work on their chosen subject because it would mean others would surpass them in skill, and nobody wanted that.

Before that, I had been in middle school and it was up to parents to make sure kids did their homework, so kids rarely didn't have something to hand in and when they didn't, the teachers hadn't shouted. They would ask why and then have a meeting with the parents. But then, I hadn't been in middle school very long so I don't know what it was like for the later years.

Either way, I was shocked that kids were giving up on homework so early on in the year.

As the days went on I just thought it was sad how unfocused the kids were. They had no direction, no idea what they wanted to do. I couldn't comprehend it, how they could deal with that.

I always knew what I wanted to do. Even after I gave up music I still had something I wanted to do, and I was working towards it.

They weren't to blame for being so half-assed, brain dead and sleepy. I'd probably be the same if I didn't have the motivation of a goal.

I was sitting in my English class on Monday of the second week, getting ready to leave when Miss. Haywire called out my name.

"Nicole, can I have a word with you please?" She asked. I felt students look at me but I ignored it as I nodded. I had been getting looks from students all week. No one spoke to me apart from Trevor, but they all spoke about me.

I had no fathomable idea why my English teacher would want me to stay behind. I'd only had three lessons with her so far and I had done everything she had asked. I even did well on her quizzes and handed in all my homework on time.

I let everyone leave the classroom, conscious of the time. I had promised Amber I'd take her home today and if I took forever she'd maybe think that I was going to stay behind again to study.

I walked closer to the teacher's desk once everyone had cleared out.

"I wanted to speak to you on Friday but you had another lesson and you ran out of the class too quickly," she started off by explaining.

"Oh sorry," I apologised genuinely. "I didn't know there was anything wrong."

Her eyes widened. "Wrong? No, absolutely not! I just wanted to ask you how you'd feel about moving to AP English?"

I frowned. "What?"

"I mean you aced all my quizzes with flying colours and that piece you wrote - I was very... well impressed isn't quite what I'm looking for but it'll have to do. I gave you the hardest topic to write about because I really wanted to test you, and well, you surpassed any expectations I had, and I had high expectations, trust me. Your piece made me cry, it was so moving!"